Make me forget – © 1982

A piece that is best described as Survival Guilt. 82 was a hard year for me, possibly because we were living in Miami at the time. There was enough oppressive heat and “jungle” around Miami to keep drawing my mind back to the Vietnam jungle.

Now, as I am loosing my memory, I feel God is answering my prayers. I still can’t help feeling that, “If I don’t remember them, who will?”.

Make me forget – © 1982

My eyes shift into that thousand yard stare,
Looking for the movement of the ghosts I know are there.
My nostrils remember the smell of that place,
The odors of foo gas that time can’t erase.
My skin feels the heat that captures your breath.
My ears hear those sounds, those sounds that mean death.
I know they are out there. I can’t see them, and yet,
They make me remember what time helps me forget.

A rain begins to fall that washes away the smell.
And the patter of raindrops covers up the sounds as well.
The sobbing and crying I hear is my own.
I find, as I stare though the tears, I’m alone.

Lord, help me remember, then make me forget.

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