Luke Shriver, Poet

The year is 1968, the time of Tet in Vietnam.
All is calm, all is well.
Is what they said it would be.
no one knew the horror that it would be,
no one knew what was about to happen.
men of all ages risk their lives in an instance
for a cause they don’t yet understand.
and in an instance,

It Began.

like a flash the world just exploded,
like every weapon has just gone off at once,
no one knows what has just happened.
but, He will come for them

men.. boys really, only 17, 18, 19, 20 years of age, are fighting.
to win, is to survive another bloody day,
but another day to fight again

boys yelling out to their mothers,
hoping for an answer.
crying, pleading, trying for some type of help,
with the only response of gunfire and shouts of medic.
the air, thick of smoke and the smell of blood and decay,
and the burning of flesh from napalm.
with even more chaos to ensue.

Every city and town, one by one start to fall.
like dominoes they begin to tumble
no place is safe from the madness,
All are baptized by fire.
The light begins to shine and the end is near
all the chaos is ending, but never over.

Now the chaos of silence has begun.
nothing is going wrong,
the problem with nothing going wrong,
is that nothing is going wrong