In the Light of Saigon

Fire is the spark of life:

(Chasing shadows through the gloom).

A source of far more violent birth

than child from the womb.

It gives and takes in one swift sound:

(Hungry flames consume).

A power found in warmth of light

to fill a humble room.

But on that day we must compare,

something more than simple flare.

The grim contrast of black and white,

brings to mind a shocking sight:

of proffered flesh aglow in flame,

while gathered round the crowd that came:

To witness all that he had done,

beneath the setting, vibrant sun.

Imagined in that moment still,

a firm resolve, by force of will.

The strength to light a simple match,

with spreading flame so quick to catch.

The cost was grave for that one man,

silent to his tomb.

But in the halls of memory,

Forever will it loom.