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Song Playing: "Everybody Hurts"
~ A Soldier's Heart ~
What was once warm and beating
with the flow of life's sweet blood inside,
has now become a place of carnage
where the horrors of war reside.
No one knows the isolation there
unless he's walked this road too.
No one knows the pain inside
like those forgotten soldiers do.
Expectations are almost worse today
than what they were when they came home.
There are still many a wounded soldiers
with wounded hearts who sadly roam.
Dazed, they stumble forward in life
through a terrain that none can see.
Their battle raging out of sight
within souls longing to be free.
This battle that rages on is
within their own mind and hearts,
where memories of death and carnage
torment their inward parts.
Intrusive thoughts encased within
explode like wars land mines did.
The "shooting war" that still goes on
within those broken hearts are hid.
Soldiers left to languish in death
with worn and broken shields,
forsaken warriors fighting on
within minds of private killing fields.
The pain, the anguish, the anger
sadly lingers on today,
in the hearts and minds of warriors
that are filled with wars decay.
They work it out as best they can,
for many they work it out alone.
Sometimes with hearts soft and tender,
sometimes with hearts of stone.
Until that day of their release
when their freedoms finally won,
where their last battle is finally fought,
when their life on earth is done.
The walking dead who few can see,
who fewer would care to understand,
still live today and await their death ...
their last hope for freedoms promised land!
for their broken hearts,
for their wounded souls,
for those hurting parts.
I pray for love,
I pray for hope,
I pray for strength,
that they may cope.
I pray for their souls,
I pray for their peace,
I pray for their minds,
their sweet release.
I understand more today,
that which I didn't understand before,
I dared to look within the heart
beyond that secret door.
Into a hell that some must live,
where in living there is no reprieve,
until death would come and welcome them,
for a "job well done" and "in honor" be received!
© Wanda LaCasse
Hello,
My name is Laura Olive and I have a poem for you
that I wrote in eigth
grade, named "Vietnam Dreams".
I had a great friend, a grown man across
the street
in California that served in Vietnam.
I saw him everyday for
2 years
between the ages of 10 and 12.
He told me many stories, many
great, many very sad.
One day, I asked him about the first man he had
killed,
he cried and shut the door to his den.
I loved him so and I had
never seen him cry,
nor did I mean to make him, but I did.
Here is the
poem that I wrote
a year or two later
from the day I asked him about
his "first".
that I wrote in eigth grade, named "Vietnam Dreams".
I had a great friend, a grown man across the street
in California that served in Vietnam.
I saw him everyday for 2 years
between the ages of 10 and 12.
He told me many stories, many great, many very sad.
One day, I asked him about the first man he had killed,
he cried and shut the door to his den.
I loved him so and I had never seen him cry,
nor did I mean to make him, but I did.
Here is the poem that I wrote
a year or two later
from the day I asked him about his "first".
Vietnam Dreams
My mind ponders many a thought,
of Vietnam, the man who fought.
Now fights his dreams that will not cease.
I ponder the thoughts he can not realease.
The man's thoughts of peace emerged first,
a thought of peace Jungle war had immersed.
A mistake caused by obscurity,
he pulled the pin for his own security.
His first victim--a friend he knew,
torn apart by the grenade he threw.
The scar imbedded deep,
still aches, awakes him from his sleep.
He looks deeply inward
to find the friend he mistakenly murdered.
"They say you always remember the first--
You never ask a man about that one, for it is always the worst."
In his mind he daily begins to repeat the end,
of the day of his first...his friend.
Laura Olive '94
FACES I DON’T KNOW
by Jerre Divelbiss
I see their shadows and hear their voices
in the dark of night
I know and remember of what they speak
I see them clearly, shadows running here and there
Slipping through my mind as I try to sleep
I remember them now in the morning glow
Faces, faces of the unknown,
faces I don’t know
I watch and listen to them with my spirit fully
For I am he whose thoughts fly with the wind
Never ever to be the same again
My soul will forever be haunted
By these faces
I don’t know
Jerre D. Divelbiss
MSGt, Retired
Copyright© 3-21-2001 By Jerre Divelbiss,
All Rights Reserved
FORGET
By Jerre Divelbiss
Many tell me I should forget
And get on with my life
Forget Vietnam, leave it behind
That was only a minor strife
How can you ever forget
Holding a comrade in your arms
Listening for his last gasping breath
As he begs you not to let go
How can you ever forget
The aroma of death, you still smell every day
With each breath you take
A smell that will never go away
How can you ever forget
An exploding shell hitting the ground
Hearing comrades scream as they bound
Then seeing body parts laying all around
How can you ever forget
The scaring of your very soul
Seeing others depart this earth
Luminous spirits floating high in the sky
How can you every forget
when so many had to die
SHADOWS IN THE NIGHT
by Jerre Divelbiss
Deep in the darkness and silence of night
A shadow moves about, a soul within a soul
Deep in the shadows it moves with ghost-like ease
Moving like the wind through the grass and trees
It knows every corner and sees and hears every sound
Its unholy body is always ready to bound
It twist and turns, ever searching,
a torture within your mind
Will even the dawning of a new day leave it behind
Like a haunting shadow, creeping through your brain
It spots a soft spot, your spirit, and springs
The shadow grasps the spirit,
steel jaws with teeth like daggers
The soul sees red, then blood red, black, then sees no more
You awake screaming in pain, eyes straining in the dark
The dreaded dark shadow has struck again, left its mark
An attack against your spirit, another burden you must toll
Still more nightmares of the horror
of war that scar the soul
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MEMORIES OF THEM
By Jerre Divelbiss
Somewhere in my mind, the sky opened up
Images of war cloud my brain
I see visions of past experiences and horrors
Comrades dying, falling down
their breath taken away, laying all around
Memories of them
Hope the rain hides the tears in my eyes
Thunder rolls as my soul dies
I will never hear their voices again
Because my brain refuses to let them in
Memories of them
Lightning strikes and I see visions still
Comrades in red stained attire on the hill
Their uniforms a mess, tears in their eyes
They ask, “where are you, why do you not cry”
Memories of them
The time is near, the time is nigh
To answer their call, to answer their cry
My head still spins, my body aches
Cold wind now stinging my eyes, my face
Memories of them
Look around, dark night, no ones here, no one to pry
Even if they were, would anybody care or even try
Would anyone notice or worry if I screamed and cried
A solitary man, black marble wall, just saying hi
Memories of them
Pieces
Broken Hearts-Broken Dreams-Broken Memories, Unbroken Screams
Alone in a jungle, filled with death,
He died in action, death be the debt.
No Mother should ever hear the words,
no Father to tear apart, what they remember of one so young,
Filled with life from the start.
Summer ball and summer dreams, summer girls with teen-age screams.
High school days were filled with glee,
baseball and cars stand out to me.
Proms and college and all the rest, leaving home to stand the test.
But I returned and Jack did not, please answer this for me.
It is not fair to leave me here,
his smile I still can see.
He played my sports, he knew my sister,
I played catch with him some days.
A long time ago--forget that now--go on and let it lay?
If it were I, I'd always want, someone remembering me.
Broken Hearts--Broken Dreams--Broken Memory.
I'll always Remember Jack Imlah--Never to be Forgotten.
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VIETNAM WAR
By Jerre Divelbiss
The Vietnam War was something horrible
It drained the country’s soul
It was something young man hated
Yet the youngest, the bravest, the chosen few
Did not run away
They answered their country’s call
Oh the mystic ways of Vietnam
So horrible, so harsh, so cruel
You penetrated the essence of man
You not only took many many young spirits away
You turned hearts and minds empty and cold
Oh God, help these remaining brave men
Who have cast away the sacred cloak of compassion and love
Who have horrible war shadows
And unhappiness haunting their troubled minds
For what manner has one, such as they
To bear the burdens of Vietnam
For the rest of eternity
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