In Passing

In Passing

I passed you on the street today                       And did not know your name                          Yet in your face I saw a look                            That said we are the same                   
Your face was weathered by the years             As life has done its best                                    To steal away our strength of youth                 Before we seek to rest                                     
I’ve seen you in the street before          And in the market square                                We’re bound by blood and brotherhood          A war that was unfair                                     
Unfair to those who fought and died                Some said we died in shame                             While students burned the flag and cards        Giving us the blame                                                                                        
“My Lai!” became their battle cry                   They did not understand                                  Our blood was shed for each of them               So they could take their stand                         
They did not taste our fear and pain                Or see our sacrifice                                                      The young men slain in jungle rain                  In pools of blood and rice                               
Perhaps I saw you in Da Nang                         Or was it in Quang Tri?                                  By a hootch outside Saigon, or                         Somewhere in the city?                                   
You passed me on a jungle trail                       Your face barely a man’s                                 With haunted eyes as old as time                     They said you’d made no plans           
A world where children carried gifts               That turned into grenades                               Where we could not tell friend from foe                       And all hands end in spades                            
A place where death came dripping orangeOr flaming liquid hellWhere fear and weariness combinedIn scenes we cannot tell
There are no words for what we sharedSome fled into madnessI see them mumbling on the streetFilling me with sadness
So we came home to emptinessThere was no marching bandAnd though we fought for freedom’s rightNo one gave us a hand
The days and years have slipped awayYet still I see your faceIn ball parks, crowds and concert hallsYou’re there in every place
At times it’s just a passing glanceThe corner of my eyeI turn and see you standing thereWe nod and just say, “Hi!”
Your face is black, your face is whiteSometimes you’re short or tallSurrounded by your familyOr with no one at all
One time I stooped to find a nameLow down upon The WallAnd as the tears ran down my faceI thought that I would fall
But your strong hands reached out to meAnd lifted me up highI turned to thank you for your helpBut all I saw was sky
I passed you on the street todayAnd did not know your nameYet in your eyes I saw a lookThat said we are the same

 Copyright © 2001:  Biff Price