‘You did not leave me my friend’
You did not leave me my friend.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Some scars cannot heal. We learn to live with them.
You did not leave me my friend.
Old man sat alone.
Whiskey and gin are his friend tonight.
The V.A hospital pain killers don’t help.
His fate cannot be opposed.
Old war wounds given without notice is slowly killing his body. The valor of war is broken now.
The man sees only blood and death.
He left for Vietnam.
A prophet to save a broken people.
He forfeit his dreams to swim in shit and blood.
He raised his glass to friends left in the dirt of a lost war.
He wished he had told his friends.
Thank you for watching my back.
He whispered “I will be joining you soon.”
He sits in lonely places now.
Waiting for the slow death to finish him off.
In the blood of courage he left home in 1963.
Volunteered for war the USA said would save the world.
I sat with my friend.
I ordered a double of Jack and a pint of cold beer.
I looked at my friend. Once a 220 pound man with strength
and hope. Now barely a 100 pound man and can barely walk.
He looked at me. He gave me a big Canadian smile and he told me.
“You did not leave me my friend.”
I hugged my old friend. I met him a few years back. Trying to drink
myself to death. He told me. “You don’t know nothing. You have a chance.
Cancer ain’t killing you. wake up.”
I watched him drink the Jack Daniels. He told me.
“Jack Daniels hadn’t let me down yet. Pain ain’t too bad. Doctors told me
soon I will be done.”
My friend loved his Toronto Maple leafs. We watched many games.
I go to the downtown tavern and watch hockey alone now.
My friend died on a cold Winter day and found peace.
I hope his brothers are waiting for a follow Soldier.
Some wars outlast the battles.
Some sickness eat at the body and soul.
My friend never complained about the pain.
He told me if he had one wish.
Would be to take the shit of war out of his head.
I drink the Jack Daniel and drink my cold Canadian beer.
I can hear my friend.
“You did not leave me my friend”.
Coyote
July 2012
Vietnam stole our father, he returned home yet he never left.
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So sad. I read it to my husband. He is a Vietnam Veteran too. He was drafted. But the wound of war still chasing him in the layers of his heart and brain.
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My mother lost many good friends to the Vietnam war. Left many with hard memories to carry. I was in from 1976-1980 the first time. I befriended many Vietnam war NCO’s. They were my mentors of my youth.
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Beautifully written, yet so solemn. 😦
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War leave deep wounds. It is sad the young men pay for the sins and the greed of the old. Thank you for reading and the comment. I do appreciate.
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You are so very welcome. 🙂
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