Submission Pre/Viewer

The LingeringRichard Wangard     Lingering, vietnam, medic, Agent Orange

There is a train track
in my brain.
The engine never runs out of fuel
as it goes round and round.
It pulls some boxcars,
same name on each one:
PTSD.
In one, the faces of the brothers I lost.
The ones you save, you never remember,
only the ones that die before your eyes
during a medivac as you do EVERYTHING
humanly POSSIBLE
to keep them until you land at the hospital.
But I failed!
A jet engine mechanic
had to learn to become a medic.
Double duty and I would not have had it
any other way.
There are side tracks off the mainline in my brain.
One goes to isolation,
another to inappropriate behavior,
another to anger,
another to guilt.
And after 55 years the train still runs!
What have I learned about the LINGERING?
A wife of over 50 years that has been in Vietnam
more than I have?
PTSD group counseling that is the next best thing
to writing.
All Nam brothers, but the group changes much.
These days as my brothers die
from Agent Orange,
old wounds,
just plain age,
we pass into history. The LINGERING
will stop;
I don’t know when.
Cope?
That is nothing but a cruel joke to any Nam Vet!
Not On My Watch!
THE LINGERING WON’T LET IT!