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.