"Four South Koreans still bearing the scars of old bullet
wounds met with Pentagon officials yesterday,
seeking an accounting and compensation nearly 50 years
after they said U.S. troops came to their hamlet and
killed hundreds of civilian refugees early in the Korean
War....The Koreans flew to Washington from Cleveland,
where they prayed together with three U.S. veterans
in a church Tuesday."
-- Seattle Post-Intelligencer, November 13, 1999
Dear Lord, You know I can't erase
Their striking scars or fifty years of lies.
I close my eyes to hear You, and embrace
Their death-singed hearts, their trauma-focused lives.
I pray they learn the truth and that its salt
Helps them not simply blame and fault
But understand how triggers in our hearts,
Once pulled, can strafe a village silent, blood
From corpses spreading pools of scarlet mud
Through No Gun Ri. Once murder starts,
It doesn't seem like murder. So we learn
Again. Their scars, Lord, sting. Their stares still burn;
Their hearts shout shrapnel and echo shots.
Our marrow cures to wisdom. Somehow love survives
Through bullet wounds, through eyes' black dots.
-David D. Horowitz