My Country 'Tis of
Thee
A POW in SE Asia
My Country 'Tis of
Thee
A POW in SE Asia
No! Not again! My God! My
God! Where are they?
Where are my countrymen? ?
After all these years, the depression still hits me...still knocks me
against this cold, dank wall. This wall, that carries the names of
Americans scratched into it. Some who got to go home. Some who did not.
Do my countrymen remember me?
Do they
care??!
I yearn for my family. Does my wife look at the same stars
that I do wondering if I am glancing skyward? How did our lives change
so much?! Does she demand my return or has she finally succumbed to
the lie?
What about my children? Have they gone to bed
all these years crying because daddy isn't there? Oh God! I can't
even remember their ages. Do they now have families of their own? Am I a
grandfather? Do my grandchildren know of me? Do they care?
? ?
My Mom. God, how I miss her peach cobbler. Does she
turmoil about me? Wonder if I am ok? Does she cry herself to sleep
wondering why it is that fate took her Joseph from helping her through
her golden years? Does she wonder if I am alive? Does she know? Is
she alive, still?
My Dad. I wonder if he is ashamed that he taught me that we live in a
nation that fights for Democracy. That we are lucky enough to be
free and that there are responsibilities that go along with that
freedom. Fighting so that others can taste that sweet breath, that sweet
joy of freedom that we take for granted. I wonder if he had to do it
over again, would he urge me to run...run to Canada?!
HA! Freedom! What does that mean? I answered the call. I did the
right thing. I fought for their freedom, what now is anyone doing about
mine? I am no ghost! I am POW and I am MIA. 
My Country 'Tis of thee, Sweet Land of Liberty, why have you adandoned
me?
My God, how I would love to watch the sunset on the Catskills once
again. Or sit on the front porch, just after cutting the grass while
rain fell and experience that wonderful smell.
Catchin' the Yankees and the Red Sox go at it. Ahh, but the thought of
that brings a bittersweet tear.
I miss my country...I miss my home.
What I wouldn't give to go to the sweet shop for an egg cream.
How many presidents have been in office since I have been sentenced to
this hell on earth? The last president I remember was Mr. Nixon when
they played his address to my nation, saying that we were either all
home or dead! And then they laughed at us saying , "We can keep you forever!"
Why? The war is
over! I screamed, "NO!", but no one heard me. My mind. I fear I am
retreating to the darkest, deepest recess of my mind and will never come
back.
There has to have been other presidents by now. How many years can a man
remain president, I don't even remember anymore. It is all I can do to
hold on to my memories, my family, my children, my nationality...my
being!! Don't they know? Don't they care?
How can this have happened? Won't
someone
get me and the others out of here? Where, God,
Where are they??!
Doesn't anyone realize that it could have been them? There But For the
Grace of God Go I? Remember? I do not mean to complain, Lord, but isn't
there a way that this cup could pass over my head? This chalice that
runs over with the blood and tears of Americans still confined? Can't
You relieve me of this purgatory? This hell? I did my time. I want to
come home.
Does anyone hear me? Does
Anyone Care???
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