MISSING IN ACTION (o)

I used to fear I would
   be forced to join the army.
But the war stopped before
   they drew fifty-seven's lottery.
I can still hear those cries for love,
   through tirades of war.
Seeing the young men who left us
   for battled shores.

We watched the disasters, the deaths,
   then the troops withdraw.
We listened to the President's
   unconvincing talks. 
We could taste the disappointment
   of "peace with honor".
And smell the discouragement
   of veteran soldiers. 

Unemployment rose without war.
   We had recession.
And we brought refugees over,
   that caused more problems.
We let the draft dodgers return,
   from over the border.
As vets thought of buddies
   who had military burials.

Names and ranks were filed away,
   like so much bile.
Trying to forget those dark days,
   young boys with rifles.
no one is sorry; except,
   those sorry for themselves.
Victims of a war we chose,
   to live in private hells.

We hope time will heal deep wounds,
   and history will procede.
In America we remember just
   our more righteous deeds.
The war will change only the backs
   of history books.
The luckier vets can get 
   jobs as short order cooks.

Now I know it would be my fault,
   if in future yore,
I allowed a war to be fought
   from now evermore.
As mankind we must grow from our
   sophomoric deeds.
Or digest ourselves with 
   self righteous needs.

-dp-
9-11-82