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Grant Handgis ~ Author/Poet


from "In The Age of Youth"

The sounds of the mountain...

remained the same, before there was the

blood, spilled generations deep

and spread throughout as cauldrons tipped down

forming the rivers of hatred, carried

to the very edge of the great lake in the

West, and foamed in seething revenge

hurled onward in manifest destiny over the

plains, where homes of hide ornamented the

once peaceful valleys and drifted with the

wind, past ancestral grounds where bison

and eagle shared the wealth, lade bare

of life, of song, sung low to the steady

beat of drums that ring no more

This was an early poem of mine, written not long after returning from Vietnam and discard from the Marine Corps. The lines are reflective of memories of that conflict, and the things seen and learned while there. As I have maintained in my thinking all along, nothing is dumber than war.


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