Vietnam War Poetry - "Waiting for the Fire"

An "interesting" poem about Vietnam, written by a combat veteran -- ironically, though, one from World War II, not Vietnam at all. While it is a powerful poem, it still feels a tad disingenuous, and perhaps too critical/judgmental about a combat experience he wasn't a part of. The Vietnam veterans I've talked to are anything but "dry-eyed" about their experiences there.  Poetry is wonderful, and people tend to take it at face value.  This one, however, makes me wonder why the poet didn't write about something more immediately within his own experience.  Had a Vietnam veteran written it instead, I would have a whole different reaction to it.  To the degree that it's still an important poem about war, it's worth knowing about, but maybe not taking as "gospel."

Waiting for the Fire

Not just the temples, lifting
lotuses out of the tangled trees,
not the moon on cool canals,
the profound smell of the paddies,
evening fires in open doorways,
fish and rice the perfect end of wisdom;
but the small bones, the grace, the voices like
clay bells in the wind, all wasted.
If we ever thought of the wreckage
of our unnatural acts,
we would never sleep again
without dreaming a rain of fire:
somewhere God is bargaining for Sodom,
a few good men could save the city; but
in that dirty corner of the mind
we call the soul
the only wash that purifies is tears,
and after all our body counts,
our rape, our mutilations,
nobody here is crying; people who would weep
at the death of a dog
stroll these unburned streets dry-eyed.
But forgetfulness will never walk
with innocence; we save our faces
at the risk of our lives, needing
the wisdom of losses, the gift of despair,
or we could kill again.
Somewhere God is haggling over Sodom:
for the sake of ten good people
I will spare the land.
Where are those volunteers
to hold back the fire? Look:
when the moon rises over the sea,
no matter where you stand
the path of the light comes to you.

-- Philip Appleman.

Philip Appleman received the Humanist Arts Award from the American Humanist Association in 1994. He served in the U.S. Army Air Corps from 1944 to 1945 and in the U.S. Merchant Marine Corps in 1946 and from 1948 to 1949. He is the author of three novels, including In the Twelfth Year of the War; a half-dozen nonfiction books, including the new third edition of the Norton Critical Edition, Darwin; and seven books of poetry, including New and Selected Poems, 1956-1996, from which the above poem is reprinted.