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								| Wife of the Man from Vietnam |  |  |  
					| Life can be so very hard At the drop of a hat frenetically marred
 When in love and living
 Hell and heaven pursuing
 As the wife of the man
 Still fighting battles from Vietnam.
 
 A vet's wife has to be emotionally willing
 With gathered strength daily moodiness encountering
 Forever enduring to go the whole nine yards
 Never knowing what hand is dealt by his fickle cards
 Borne tolerance on special dates walking on egg shells
 Tip-toeing through life on pins and needles.
 
 Veteran wives have to be students of PTSD
 Know well its ins-and-outs you see
 Bearing with stamina seeming apathetic indifference
 Directing in moments you least expect violence
 Triggered by a churning, stifling, suffocating sound
 In a crowd suddenly confining, in confusion milling round.
 
 Time and again you must with fortitude exonerate his guilt
 His suffering from surviving war's battles in psyches built
 His guilt assuage, wondering why brothers had to die, not me
 His vital force forever infected by Nam's tumultuous melee
 For he's seen carnage deeper than the normal eye can see
 Reality lying just beyond the senses his life decree.
 
 Forget about that word "normal"
 For a 19 year old boy who's seen death's face abysmal
 Normal does not apply...
 I'll tell you why...
 He lived with wall-to-wall putrid fear unfathomable
 He lives with profound misery he doesn't understand
 Senses still short-circuited send him round the bend.
 
 What a poor wife deals with can make her want to scream
 For always he contrasts one world with the other extreme
 Back and forth, one foot here, then back there... ad nauseam
 Back where he learned to kill... or be killed!
 React quickly, without thinking, to bring harm... or be 
					harmed!
 To act with violence... or be victim of violence!
 
 Men seduced by war's barbarously bizarre world
 See horrors in dreams, sights and smells unfurled
 Reliving memories of what they saw, what they did
 Forever imagining devastation to fractured souls deep down 
					hid.
 Fragile boyhood's innocence lost in Nam's destruction
 Men wasted in the ugly business of killing's confusion.
 
 Existence entire was an obsession of Nam's survival
 Killing the man, their Vietcong archrival
 Living earned by murdering
 Just to get back to "the world" in dreams they clung to
 These brothers-in-arms bonded through and through.
 Only those who've ridden the beast can begin to understand
 The depth of a brother's love comprehend.
 
 And while they were gone,
 Fighting for their country in hell and beyond
 "The world" they so loved, turned against them
 Dishonored and spit upon them
 So those returning with so much to get off their chest
 Could not lay this evil war to rest.
 
 Therefore, trusting no one, they turned to isolation
 Demons eating at their weary soul's conflagration,
 O the unholy desecration!
 Still lost forever between that world, and this
 Painful memories tear at life's moments of bliss
 Hiding deep Nam's unhealed scars
 Invisible to the human eye suffering a world of scares.
 
 From youth's painstakingly taught morality
 He learned the soldier's art of immorality!
 Life in Nam spent balancing his moral budget to cope
 Living there with no morals, no conscience but hope
 Living in a place you just had to survive
 To stay alive...
 where conduct disallowed back home... is customary
 Killing in the precarious quagmire
 just something you had to do... mandatory.
 
 Vietnam, the catalyst for constant internal war
 Way down deep in their soul, themselves they abhor
 Forever unforgiving themselves for the surviving
 Themselves... and those closest to them... punishing.
 Bearing guilt... feeling always Out of step, out of rhyme
 Lost in this new generation's pace in time.
 
 To many people, Veterans appear almost catatonic
 Warily obsessing on a thousand yard stare lethargic
 Driven to times they must be alone
 Yet at other frightening times they cannot be alone
 Skeptical of authority that let them down in war's charade
 By people they most loved, fought for, trusted, betrayed.
 
 Veteran wives can only support their men
 Try with Wisdom of Solomon to understand them.
 Learn to give more than received, a woman's touch bestow
 For often veterans need more love than wives ever know
 For wives must know, learning to live again... is killing 
					him
 For Nam's memory still lies repressed, still biding deep 
					within.
 
 Though they desperately want to, and know that they must
 Is it any wonder they find it so hard, again to trust
 To merge back into society they offered their very lives for
 That left them wounded, bleakly forsaken on a foreign shore
 Society's gang totally embarrassed by them
 Offering no ticker-tape parades, for them...
 
 Veteran wives must learn the three C's
 These thoughts must run through them easy as a summer's 
					breeze.
 Create their problems... they did not!
 Control how time and events affect them... I cannot!
 Cure them... I alone cannot!
 Veterans must heal themselves with therapeutic lessons 
					taught!
 
 For he's now witness to cruel war's deadly cost
 Seeing just how much of "him" is irrevocably lost.
 Learn to forgive him, caring not who is wrong or right
 For true love has imperfect eyesight.
 Close the unforgiving mouth, for right sorts itself out
 When you tune sensibilities to the primal shout!
 
 A wife must keep vets they've selected
 To "this World" connected...
 Listen with open ears
 To make more pleasant after-war years
 Hear behind his manly voice the fears...
 Caress his wetted tears...
 
 Vet families find it so hard to find their cloud nine
 Often unable to have friends, who did not too walk the line
 Friends... veterans feel they can't afford them
 For back in the day... they lost too many of them.
 The hatreds, the fears, the guilt, too often combine
 Strangling hearts intertwined in Nam's awful jungle vine.
 
 How can a still young wife hope to cope
 With war's inbred horror grope...?
 To keep her man, her family... herself, able
 Searching for a sane life that's half-way stable?
 She must have the soul of a saint's sense
 Turn bubbling hate to love with patience...
 Then find within, more patience!
 O how did she get herself into this precarious situation
 Find a vet to bestow her adulation...?
 
 Emerge as the wife in love with the man
 Still fighting battles from Vietnam!
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					| By 
					Gary Jacobson Copyright 2004
 Listed 
					December 12, 2010
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								About 
								Author... 
								In 1966-67, Gary Jacobson served with B Co 
								2nd/7th 1st Air Cavalry in Vietnam as a combat infantryman and is the recipient of the Purple 
								Heart.
 Gary, who resides in Idaho writes stories he 
								hopes are never forgotten, perhaps compelled by 
								a Vietnamese legend that says, "All poets are 
								full of silver threads that rise inside them as 
								the moon grows large." So Gary says he 
								writes because "It is that these silver 
								threads are words poking at me � I must let them 
								out. I must! I write for my brothers who cannot 
								bear to talk of what they've seen and to educate 
								those who haven't the foggiest idea about the 
								effect that the horrors of war have on 
								boys-next-door."
 
					
					Visit Gary Jacobson's site for more information It is illegal to 
					use this poem without the author's permission.~~ Send your comments and/or use permission request to 
				
					Gary Jacobson. ~~
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