by Ethel Mortenson Davis
His trouble didn’t start
in Viet Nam,
although he came back
from the war
and went to live
in a cabin he built
in Northern Wisconsin.
His trouble began
when he was little,
the last of eight children
and a twin.
They put him outside
when he screamed
at supper-time—
the family couldn’t take
two more children.
His siblings taunted him.
His father beat him
when he was older
and poured his anger
and frustration out on him.
He was the scapegoat
of the family.
He still has flashbacks
thirty five years later—
still can’t be around people
or gunshots.
But his peace is in the lynx,
the bear, and the deer,
in watching them
take care of their young.
That’s all he talks about
when you go to see him.
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