"The Dead"

As I was reading this poem, I was struck with a thought. What would life be like after experiencing something as horrendous as war? How would one adjust to an entirely new lifestyle following moving from a war zone, where each step could be the difference between life or death? The poem brings up an idea that these people have lost a part of who they are, yet still try to make the most out of the opportunity they have been given. Dinh states, "The dead are not dead but wave at pretty strangers from their pick-up trucks on Bolsa Avenue...But the living, some of them, like to dig up the dead, dress them in native costumes, shoot them again, watch their bodies rise in slow motion." These lines struck a chord with me for some reason. For me, who has never really experienced loss on such an epic scale, it is tough to imagine what losing family along with my entire country would be like. It also seems like the amount of hurt that would reemerge each time there was talk of family or past events would be unbearable. The poem seems to address this idea with the statement that some of the living end up shooting the dead again. It is like each time the refugees speak of the past, they rediscover the pain and suffering that occurred when family was first lost. Personally, I cannot imagine what this would be like, and it seems to add a whole new level of strength to the people who were affected by the Vietnam war.