Dust Child

by Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai

The Sorrow of War by Bảo Ninh,

We are the unwilling Led by the unqualified Doing the unnecessary For the ungrateful.

The white man was now staring at Phong. Their eyes locked. Phong registered some heaviness on the foreigner’s face, the heaviness of someone who had to carry a burden larger than himself.

As he lifted his chopper, he’d caught a glimpse of their school bags tethered to the back of their bikes. How had the parents of those children coped? How could one cope with the pain of losing a child?

“What the poet Nguyễn Duy wrote is so true. At the end of each war, whoever wins, the people lose.

Nguyễn Văn Khoa began to tremble. Thiên, too. Dan’s body started to shake; he sensed he had been allowed to live just so that he could witness this moment when a child of war brought former enemies together. The spicy-sweet smell of incense embraced them, and Dan felt so many other dead and wounded Vietnamese and non-Vietnamese gathering around them. His crew members Ed, Neil, and Reggie were there, along with the children they’d killed. All were holding hands, praying for each other, praying for peace.

India,

Now she could see Heaven had blessed people with their different skin colors, and regardless of their differences, they were beautiful in their own ways.

What purpose did it serve anyway to teach children about hatred, to continue glorifying victory while not acknowledging the human costs on all sides?