Today at New Gilead Church we honored our Veterans. So proud of my mom for reading this poem that my father had written in 2004. It was a complete shock to me since even I, have never heard it. So there was tears shed because of how proud I am to call them my parents. Please take the time to read it. It may touch your heart as well. Vietnam 1969 By Frank Simpson We lay on a hill in a faraway land, There was blood and dirt entrenched on our hand. We were so young in a strange sort of way, But we were fighting for life that very day. Eighteen or nineteen or twenty years old, We were trained to be lean, mean and bold. They said it was for freedom and the red, white and blue, So that Old Glory could wave for me and you. But all I know as each day passes through, That young men are dying for the red, white and blue. Maybe it was worth it as history would say, But many more young men would die today. As the planes fly over we all hunker down, It might be calm overhead but it is hell on the ground. For as the hot metal flies over the desolate land, No one is safe in a faraway land. As I look among the scattered troops, There is no origin of ethnic group. Race does not matter and religion is for the few, Because we are here for the red, white and blue. For we all are gathered in one clan, We fight for freedom in this foreign land. Blacks, whites, browns and Indians too, Protestants and Catholics and even some Jews. Somewhere in a far off distance land, Our leaders meet and try to shake hands. They argue over wrong or right, But on this hill both sides share dying tonight. If we could meet in a peaceful truce, We would throw up our hands and say whats the use. We would share a bowl of beef and rice, And share some pictures of home, that would be nice. That would not happen as history has told, For both of our leaders are taught to be bold. So we both lay here in this perilous night, Someone would die, was it wrong or right.
Posted on: Mon, 10 Nov 2014 00:44:25 +0000
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