At Hell's Gate: A Soldier's Journey
by Claude Anshin Thomas
In the early 2000s I became friends with a very homesick Australian monk who lived at a Dai Dang monastery in CA. He has since gone back home and assured me that his loneliness has ended. He gave my husband this book to read, hoping that it held a message for him because he had served in Vietnam. I was the one to read it; my husband doesn't wish to remember.
The source of this poem is from my living in Berkeley and seeing veterans on the street, even giving them money to buy a bottle of wine, but it also comes from a scene in this book that actually happened to the author.
This book begins with the words:
"Imagine for a moment that you are standing outside in the rain. What do you typically think and feel as rains falls around you?
For me, every time it rains I walk through war. For two rainy seasons I experience very heavy fighting. During the monsoons in Vietnam, the tremendous volume of water leaves everything wet and muddy. Now when it rains, I am still walking through fields of young men screaming and dying. I still see tree lines disintegrating from napalm. I still hear seventeen-year-old boys crying for their mothers, fathers, and girlfriends. Only after re-experiencing all of that can I come to the awareness that right now, it's just raining."
The first few chapters of this book were very heavy with scenes of war. Taking a scene from out of the book where a baby was left lying and crying in the road, where Claude AnShin Thomas wrote, "...one of them reached out and picked up the baby, and it blew up," I wrote a poem in remembrance:
If you have never been to war, or even if you have, this book is a blessing, a story of a man's survival and how he found peace. Perhaps he didn't find peace completely by becoming a monk in Thich Nhat Hanh's monastery, a monastery where he didn't stay long, but he was well on his way by doing so. We all have to find peace in our own ways, if we ever can.
Today, I think of the refuges that are leaving their own war torn country, the fears, the hunger, and the cold that they face, and I wonder if they will find peace in another land?
p.s. Claude AnShin Thomas is now a monk in Budapest and can be found on facebook. This poem I wrote is for him.
LIVING IN BERKELEY BACK IN NAM
I saw you standing
in front of the market
on Telegraph Avenue
asking for spare change.
With fear
seeping through
the shadows
of your hallowed eyes,
you let me know that you
were back in Nam,
where you watched
your buddy
holding
a Vietnamese baby
in his protecting arms,
blow up
before those very eyes
that I am staring
into now.
In one breath
you told me that it
wasn’t real,
that it
never really happened;
in the next breath
you asked me “Why?”
And I had no answer
other than to offer you
a few
coins.
And you walked into that store
to buy yourself another
bottle of wine.
~~written by Jessica S. M. 2005
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