Betrayal

“Rage Goddess, sing the Rage of Peleus’ son Achilles.”

Vietnam was the
great epic poem
of my generation.

The Iliad of our time,
played out in the
red dust and sticky mud
of a place none of us
ever understood.

No Achilles I.

Just a frightened
and confused
twenty year old boy
following orders,
doing my job,
trying to make it home.

But home to what?

Usury age old and
age thick and
liars in public places?

Racism and Oligarchy?

A divided country
where naked greed
is the only value?

What would my comrades
who died so young
think of America now?

I cannot speak
for the dead,
but I imagine them
filled with rage
as I am. Angry
to have given all
for bald faced lie.

Oh my ghostly Brothers!

If only we could
turn our broken rifles
on the monsters
who have seized control
of America now.

That is one fight
I would volunteer for,

to make the monsters feel
the wrath of all those whose
dreams they have betrayed.

But we are old, sick, or dead now.

It is for the young to save this country.

Where has honor gone?

It no longer lives here.