Note from Nam

a long time ago, we stopped a war. and learned to forgive

Note from Nam

the Father finds it hard to swallow
the unspeakable lump in his throat
          the crumpled note, stuck to his fingers:
                "Your son died in gallant service
                    to his country (and Yours)..."

and He says He never felt the pain
          says he 'put it aside', deep inside
          his brain, and never cried;

so he figures he got it down,
ya know, got around it, somehow-- beat
  the insane train to the crossing
  where blame waits for death
  on the rails of a world gone off the tracks

pity the Fathers, all,
  cause they know (its a game, and)
just how bad
  they have fucked-it-up.