Vietnam

"How's the war today?"

"Mellow, man. We got ourselves a nice mellow war today."

-- Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried

I’m surrounded by the enemy on all sides

in a deep, dark jungle

with no reason to be there except “I told you so”

but this isn’t Vietnam.

No. In this war—the war of staying alive—the enemy isn’t just around you. It’s in you too.

In this war, it’s nice and calm. We’ve got soft grenades that caress you like a lover. There’s barbed wire that kisses your skin. Guns that breathe life.

I’ve questioned my assumptions

I’ve broken my rules

nothing makes sense anymore

maybe it never did.

I never expected the enemy to say

Hello? How are you? Are you going to the party?

While I sleep in my bed

I remember those days I spent under a foreign sky

and I wonder if you’re still killing innocents

with your snares that embrace

and never let go.

I’ve used dollar store symbolism to help me make sense of my trauma

but my trauma is nothing

because this isn’t Vietnam.