My first memories are of the terror at Dak Sei Ang.
Life was difficult, it was hard when lived at Dak Sei Ang.
When I was young, still just a tiny boy, death and dying
were a part of my days in the mountains at Dak Sei Ang.
All of my people, papa san - mama san - old and young
fought along with the large men in berets at Dak Sei Ang.
No one told me what we fought, why we killed, why we died.
No one told me not to kill, not to hate at Dak Sei Ang.
Then soon, so very soon, it was my turn to aim a gun,
to squeeze a life from one too young to die at Dak Sei Ang.
Pray it is not too late to be forgiven, to forgive
all that I did, all that was done to me at Dak Sei Ang.
Looking back in time with my eyes - my heart - open to truth,
understanding slowly comes to my days at Dak Sei Ang.
Now I know that life is precious, meant to be passed in peace.
Each life to be treasured, even when lived at Dak Sei Ang.
I need now to know this peace, as does that tall one called Lurch
who took my picture on that day long ago at Dak Sei Ang.
Copyright © 2001 by Keith Weisheit, All Rights Reserved