Walking By The Wall On A Snowy Eve

Unfinished Thoughts

Dedicated to Someone, whose name isn't on the wall; he came home, but it might have been better if he hadn't

There had to be,
Something good,
About being stationed
In Washington.
You could pay
Your respects,
Whenever you wanted,
To the brothers
And sisters,
Who couldn't
Come back,
Alive.
The wall makes its own
Quiet statement.
The small memorials,
Left behind
By friends,
By family,
By lovers,
Make a different kind.
I'm not sure I care.
Behind each name,
Are tears.
That's all I see,
That's all I feel,
The tears
Behind the names.
Perhaps the wall's life
Will end,
Its meaning spent,
When all those tears
Have dried.
When the last mourners
Eyes have closed,
When no one's
Father's name is left
Upon the wall,
What will be
The point of it?

The wall still speaks,
But soon it too,
Will be
As mute
As all those
Mourners.
We may keep it
In repair,
But we will not
Be able to give
Meaning,
To those mute names.
Folk will wander past,
And wonder at
Their meaning,
No longer distracted
By trinkets,
Placed upon the ground,
They'll turn
From that now mute,
And meaningless
Graphite strip,
To gaze upon
Those three sad,
Neglected soldiers,
And wonder why,
We were so odd,
To put the
Real memorial,
Out of the way,
Under the trees.