Hell.
It’s a real place.
I know.
I been there.
Some people
who don’t really know
say you go there
after you die.
But I went down
quick into the pit;
and like so many others
of my generation,
I died there —
and came back here
in an empty body
curiously animated
(courtesy of dear Uncle Sam).
and people think I’m still alive-
and expect me to act that way.
They just don’t realize
how hard it is
to act alive
when your soul
is still in that land
where the moss grows on all sides
of the trees —
and the bugs are so loud
it makes your ears ring,
and you can hardly
hear yourself think.
They are never quiet.
You can’t get away from them.
And the only time you didn’t hear them
was when it was raining.
Then all you heard was the rain.
It came down so hard
it almost drowned you.
You had to bend over
and make a pocket of air
with your poncho
just to get a breath…
and in a matter of seconds
the air pocket would
be filled with bugs.
Oh, yeah…
it rained in hell…
It’s not true that
there’s no water there.
The whole place
is full of water
The air
and the ground
are saturated with it.
But you couldn’t drink it.
If you drank any standing water
you would get sick–
maybe even die.
So you had to
put halazone pills in it.
That made it taste like iodine…
but at least you didn’t
get typhoid or cholera
or any of the other
various and sundry
and deadly
diseases.
In the paddies
you waded through water all day,
and it made your feet rot off.
And while they rotted
you listened to the bugs
and wondered if there was ever a time
when you didn’t hear them..
In the jungle
you breathed water all day-
and your lungs screamed
for dry air.
But there was none.
So you fought for each breath
listened to the bugs,
and went on.
Sometimes, there was a fire-fight,
and then you didn’t think about
the bugs,
all you thought about
was staying alive.
Some people think
no one dies in hell.
I know better–
I been there.
I saw lots of people die;
some of them
were my friends…
some I just knew,
some I never saw before.
Some of them
were people I killed.
But people are right
when they say
you don’t die in hell;
I mean part right.
You always wonder if you will —
and your friends do,
but you don’t die there…
except on the inside.
And that’s worse really-
(if you think it’s easy
to act alive
when everything
that means anything to you
is dead,
well,
you should try it sometime.)
Just you try
living without your soul inside you.
I think once
when I was asleep
the bugs came,
sneaking up in the night
and carted off my soul,
leaving behind nothing but a withered husk
that looked like me
(except for the eyes)
twisting in the wind.
So…
celebrate Memorial Day-
Hey! I will too!
But while you’re at it
remember that there are
veterans who gave their lives
for their country,
even if they did come back.
Even though
you see us walking around
our souls are still
MIA
in that land where the moss
grows on all sides of the trees-
and the bugs are so loud
you can’t hear yourself think.
And there’s water all around
but you can’t get a drink,
and your friends die…
We have “Memorial Day”
everyday.
But we don’t get the day off
or go on a picnic
or spend “quality time”
with our families.
No.
We just keep on fighting
and listening to the bugs…
and we keep hoping
that Someday will get here
And we can go home again.
