Dead Men Calling Poem by Lawerence Mize, Sr.

I see their faces
hear their shouts.
Long dead soldiers
calling me out.

They stand in a group
atop a hill.
Smile as if posing
so lifeless and still.

Uniforms so dirty
streaked with red.
Such wicked smiles
from the long past dead.

I know these men
they were once there for me.
Keep returning in my sleep
won't let me be.

They died so young
in horrible fashion.
For some...
in their very first action.

I've tried to distance myself
from that period in time.
Let Vietnam go
it was never really mine.

It continues to cling
grab and hold.
The memories come in a flood
as I continue to grow old.

So there they stand
atop that damn hill.
Waiting for 'Old Doc'
Their final kill.