I walk through the Jungle,
Treetops lying overtop me,
Monkeys swinging above my face,
But I continue,
And then a plane flies over me,
And a huge chemical-
The colour orange-
Comes into the field,
And the foliage above me begins to
Shrivel and die.
I wonder what the heck
It could be until I begin
To swallow it,
And I begin to cough,
Cough louder and harsher;
And I can't stand on my own two feet
Any more.
I drop my gun,
And my friends,
Who are wearing gas masks
Come to my aide,
And they see that I suffer.
They take me over their shoulders,
Drag me down to Base Camp,
A 50 mile stretch from out in the Jungle
Where we were,
And they take me to surgery,
To where I am still barely hanging on,
And I wonder if I am going to die.
I am weak,
My head is dizzy,
My heart beats constantly,
Faster and faster,
Struggling to stay alive.
I wonder whether I am ever going to live,
Whether I will ever stand on my
Own two feet anymore,
For I cannot stand at all.
I then begin to feel faint,
And I pass out,
Unconscious on the bed
Of the hospital ward
Of where I am staying.
I cannot help but rasp.
When I wake up,
I have a hard time talking.
I figure out that the thing
That did this to me,
In the Nam,
Was Agent Orange,
And I knew I would probably be back home.
They sent me home, they did,
And I was doing all right,
Until I realised I had throat cancer,
And I could speak no more.
Agent Orange took my voice,
So I can no longer laugh or sing,
Or talk to people like I used to,
But instead just be me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem