The Mourner
of the Military Cemetary
Dr Tran Xuan Dung M.D. Major
Immobile near the Bien Hoa Highway
You sit, your gun across your lap.
The sun's dying rays illuminate but half your face
- Why such melancholy in your eyes?
The statue of a mourner... but who are you?
They came back from all corners of the country;
Was it Binh Gia, with its dark rubber plantations?
Or do your soles bear traces of foggy Kontum's red earth?
Civilians would often catch a fleeting glimpse of your shadow
In the mountains and jungles of Bong Son,
Near the foot of Phu Cu Pass.
There's blood on the sleeve of your faded fatigues.
I come from a poor village,
A village in Gio Linh.
You had come to fight there many a time,
Though your chances of leaving alive were slim.
When you heard the name “Quang Tri”
Your eyes would light up,
Just like when “Dong Ha” and the “Thach Han River” were mentioned
And your gaze would rest in the far off distance as if recalling the charms of a lover.
Who are you? Are you of the Airborne perhaps?
A row of medals glitter on your chest.
In the evening light I suddenly realise
That the light is playing on both the medals and the oozing blood beneath them.
Your combat fatigues seem to be changing:
The camouflage pattern fades to black,
And the insignia on your sleeve metamorphoses
Into that of other Army Corps.
Now you are a “Killer Shark”, then you are a “Sea Eagle”,
Your forearms bear the words “Death to Communists”,
Were you a Marine
Who had fought so valiantly in the summer of '72?
I hold a glass to your lips,
It holds the sweet milk of Tam Quan coconuts.
Why do you press your lips together?
So firmly pressed, and so cold to the touch like steel.
Dusk bids its last adieus, and a shiver traces my spine,
In the last of the light the flag is reflected in your eyes.
You are proud to have died for your country...
But in which battle did you die?
Dr Tran Xuan Dung M.D. Major
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