~The Girl I Left Behind Me~

by Gary Jacobson

There was a pretty little girl
With a pretty little curl,
I left so far behind me,
When the Army took me, to be all I could be,
Across the deep blue, heartbreak sea.

I will always remember her tear,
That in my heart will always sear,
As I said goodbye under a paper moon,
Told her I'd be back soon,
Her love was bound for the Vietnam war
To do his patriotic chore.

I dreamt of her while sweating in the Nam,
Still in my heart singing songs
Of devotion to home and freedom.
In a place where grisly horrors blossom,
I dreamt of happiness waiting for me,
Of the bliss life could be,
Most surely would be.

On combat missions I was always dreaming,
Of her,
In my foxhole the good life imagining,
Of life with her,
Thinking of her,
Picturing myself with her.
Humping the boonies I was always planning,
Of my home with her.

Though dreams of her kept me alive,
War assaults a naive boy just hoping to survive.
Once principled standards in pain writhes.
Hates slice into morality like knives.
Hate on besieged senses thrives,
Exploding life's values in perspective,
Threatening purpose reflective,
His very sanity to relieve.

That girl was a symbol of all that was good,
Back home with God, apple pie and motherhood.
Dreams of her gave me strength to carry on,
Fighting through war’s bloody attrition,
Fighting to make it back to that pretty little girl
With the pretty little curl,
Waiting for me
Across the heartbreak sea.

I dreamt of her every night,
Day dreams convincing my cause was right,
Fantasies easing thoughts of constant fright,
Helping me get a clearer picture,
Of the purpose I’m here for,
Doing a chore I didn’t ask for
Sitting in this lonely foxhole,
Death so close I can smell it
Eating at my soul.

Oh how I miss that pretty little girl,
With the pretty little curl,
She were here to comfort my soul,
With her warm being wholesome so.
Oh that she could now just love me
Relieve my persistent misery,
Just hold my trembling hands,
To tell me she understands.

Sweet dreams of her make my strength stronger,
My will to go on last longer.
She wipes away tears that in my heart linger.
She replaces Nam’s hate with her sweet love,
Shelters me from raining terror
With a tender affection like a glove.
That girl brings comfort over the miles to me,
Far and across the heartbreak sea.

I miss her love when all around,
With all their being hate me,
In the worst way want to kill me.
Men absorbed in thoughts of my dying
Would relish accomplishment of the deed,
In war’s violence love to see me bleed.
For her memory in times like these I feel
Tremendous need.

I dream of darkning nights,
Carefree nights,
In the arms of love back home
Under the pale golden moon...
Where my girl and I did amorously spoon.
Her caring made my heart ecstatically swoon.

I dream of that tender kiss
Of that “just right” bliss,
With the heart of me infatuated,
Basking in the glow of romance,
Empassioned in loves sweet dance.

I dream longingly of that night
Under the golden moon spun,
Now in a dangerous land under the gun,
Where heartaches for life
Are lost or won.

Dreams of her saved
From horrors depraved,
Atrocities now around me to war inuring,
Storms tempests into my life hurling,
In this killing field
Where trauma’s refuse to yield.
Innocence itself is forever lost,
In war's bombardment tossed.

Oh how I dream of that amourous moon,
That harvest moon,
Of carefree youth...
Now in the Nam become a stalking moon uncouth.

This Vietnam moon highlites,
In full display egreciously delights,
My enlightened body silhouette,
Standing out for bloodthirsty Charles to hit.

I dream so longingly of making it back.
Dear God,
How can I ever keep from looking back.
Where problems of Nam
Lie unresolved in its train,
Wallowing in bloodletting refrain.
War's horror lies forever fermenting in my brain,
In memories embedded
For life evermore fevered.

The fruits of war,
Don't sing in my heart anymore.
I grieve for a moon that lost its innocence.
I distress of its forever lost romance.
I feel the war, the hating, the killing,
Floating beyond the veil of war’s toll,
Eating at my soul,
Blurring foggily forever my goal.
I agonize that when I got home...
The girl keeping me alive...
Was gone.

American dove Visit my Vietnam Poems index,
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VIETNAM PICTURE TOUR from the lens of a combat infantryman
from the lens of a combat infantryman!