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POEMS BY: Judith Hartley
Copyright: Judith Hartley

PAYBACK FOR JOE

In the sweltering heat, a cold sweat forms on my brow,
As the sun warms my body, my mind recalls my vow,
I can't forget my promise, Joe, as you died there in the mud,
That I'd make a Vietcong pay for every drop of your precious blood.

Smelling the rotting jungle reminds me of the times you would complain,
That it smelled like the stench of a Vietcong that had just lost his brains,
And I'll never forget that you loved the scent of a fresh tropical bloom,
You said that it took you home to the sweetness of your wife's perfume.

I hear your laughter as we each recalled a welcome dirty joke,
And how you got an adrenaline rush as you smelled the grenade smoke,
But, I recollect the hurt in your eyes as you saw a body bag,
And the pride in your face still chills me as they raised our nation's flag.

Yeah, we always thought we'd make it through and see our kids again,
And tell them of this stinking war and of all these honorable men,
But, you were cheated that night when the bullet pierced your gut,
Yet, God gave time for my promises before your eyes I shut.

This fight is more personal for me, Joe, because your life was lost,
I was left here to avenge your death, no matter what the cost,
So, how about asking God to watch over me in this hell,
'Cause your name's on the fire, when it finds its mark from each burning
shell.

THIS ONE'S FOR YOU, ABE

In Vietnam, silence was broken as someone called my name,
Through the stillness of the night, the sound of mortars came,
I arose and whispered softly, "Is that you, Abraham,"
And as he rolled into the foxhole, he cursed Uncle Sam.

When I wiped the grimy mud out of his nose and eyes,
My buddy lay beside me and my hand stifled his cries,
The hole in his belly pumped blood on my hands and shirt,
I held him close and prayed with him 'till he died there in the dirt.

I gently closed his eyes and laid his head upon my gear,
Then, when I grabbed my M-16, anger had replaced my fear,
My voice cried out in the jungle, "Come and get me, I'm still here,"
And then I saw that flash of fire, their position now was clear.

I kissed the cold grenade and yelled, "Abe, this one's for you,"
Then, my body arched in defiance as the armor and bodies blew,
I sank down in the hell-hole and pounded on my best friend's chest,
But, when I had to say goodbye, I swore I'd get the rest.

With Abe thrown across my shoulder, I stumbled through the mud,
When the medic saw me coming, my face was drenched in blood,
As they laid him on the stretcher, I cried like a newborn babe,
And when God hands out medals of valor, we'll hear, "This one's for you Abe."

THE DRILL AT THE WALL

It's Veterans Day in Washington, D.C. and I'm standing at The Wall,
I just had to come today to be here with you all,
We fought together in Vietnam and you died in my place,
So, I've come today to honor you, with grief that I can't erase.

As I look into the shining granite, I see my image there,
And as I watch my body move, it all seems so unfair,
Why is it you're not standing here, why did you have to go,
I'll always be indebted to you, a debt I'll always owe.

Some of you died in an instant, others in agony and pain,
But, I couldn't stop the suffering and that's driving me insane,
I'm sorry you gave your life for me and I'm here safe at home,
Yet, your memory lies deep in my heart, wherever I may roam.

Our flag looks so filled with pride as it waves there in the wind,
And in every star upon it lies a state you died to defend,
To me the stripes there on the flag shows pain you had to bear,
But, you died for her and she is free, that's why your names are there.

As I kneel before you, the sound of taps fill the air,
And a hand lifts my head just before I end my prayer,
I look up to the sky and I know that Heaven is real,
You all are marching on streets of gold and God leads the drill.


 

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