Purging, my pen pauses to catch a breath.
Sighing. Heaving. The words spill onto the page.
My war story… a true war story.
It is of my country ‘tis of thee.
From the Bouncing Betties
And the Vietnam dust, oh so red,
Let the freedom of truth ring!
As I agglomerate my story in chunks.

My war story…a true war story.

Teasing hallucinations tickle and coax memories from hiding.
I used to suppress in order to impress
Diverging off topic from deferment.
Yet, in fact, I toke a stand on a boat to Canada
And fell coward and went to war instead.

My war story…a true war story.

Intangible became tangible.
On the backs of all comrades
The weight of the world was carried.
What others could not bare, another picked up. We shared.

A true war story is never actually about war.