Many miles and many nightmares
from the Cambodian Border
I wake these days at ground level,
a better soldier who has tasted dust,
crawled on ambush patrol
ready to fire on any man or woman
charging me with an urge to kill,
no longer afraid, no longer vain
Let me stand for my son,
my daughter,
and the many wars to come,
stand their watch
so they too may have lovers,
cherish each smooth detail,
eat and drink well, see the world
in its many ways and many peoples,
walk forests, cross streams peacefully,
lay on beaches to take the sun,
hear the shrieks of swirling gulls,
swim waters of oceans and calm lakes
Let those who make wars
be those who fight them
Take me and leave my children
I am good at this gruesome business
I passed the course and it
comes easy now