The Wall

This is a poem that I wrote after my first trip to the wall in July, 1992.
Keith

In the darkness of the night, we walked alone in our thoughts. I stopped not to gaze upon Lincoln in his magnificent chair, but to catch my breath and wipe a tear. Continuing down the dark walk, vendors selling their wares to my right, onward we walked, alone in the night. Three men, standing tall and proud, the guns in their hands silent...but loud. Farther I walked, through the valley of names.

Three Soldiers, 1996 Copyright Keith Brown

I stopped, unable to see ahead. I swallowed my fears, to the left I steered. Three names I saw, two were friends, one, his father I'd met. Years of pain flooded in my brain, the laughs, the cries of silence in my mind. What do I do? Twenty-two years of bitter memories flash. Trying to maintain control, failing momentarily. Silence is heard except for one demented woman talking trash about all around her. She angered me. What right does she have to complain? As she lives, unlike the many names who so sadly reflect the pain of thousands.

Moving Wall in Milton, PA, 1995. Copyright Keith Brown

Death means peace to those who are there. Living means hell, agony, yet... To enjoy the next sunrise as they may not. Move on -- breathe the breath of life and remember the dead as they would have if they were the ones who were doing the same as I.

Reflections in the Vietnam Memorial Wall, 1996 copyright Keith Brown