Honor And The Wall
By MARK R., Needham, MA
Name upon name,
Row upon row,
Was all the veteran saw
as he stood 'neath the setting sun
At the Vietnam Memorial Wall.
The uniform he wore,
still bore the blood of long ago.
For not even the wall, you see,
could heal his wounds.
They, the common fighting men,
protected the freedoms of man with their pain.
And yet our backs were turned,
and our ears were blocked;
we couldn't see their pain
or hear their tortured screams.
When the lucky came home,
they marched in straight and tall -
only to be humbled by our scorn.
Those who died, we remembered with
purple hearts, silver stars
and a name on a giant, polished wall.
As his thoughts stood still, his hands moved swiftly,
placing a red, red rose beside each name.
When he had finished,
he looked to the heavens for help.
But looking up,
he could no longer see the sun,
for now it was lost,
in the shadows of ignorance.
A tear rolled down his cheek:
he wept for his friends
who lay 'neath six feet of Arlington soil,
Cross planted neatly on top
Name upon name,
Row upon row.
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