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UPON
THE WALL |
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by
The Ironhorse Writer
© 4/30/01
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He stood in silence, that cold, gray fall
Gaze affixed, upon the wall
Of those like him, of those who came
In search of a meaning, in search of a name
All of twenty-two, when he returned
Medals, Memories, Nightmares, all earned
Thoughts of, "That boy," who answered "The call,"
Of all who answered, upon the wall
Remembered his dad, the day he came back
Six packs, smokes, the Pearl Harbor attack
"Sometimes son, ya' have to settle the score,"
"I know dad . . . least yours was a war"
Then, there was Mom, steadfast and tr
"I knew that God would see you through."
His mind accepted God healing all
But his soul remained upon the wall
"One big board, each piece with a name
Political pawns in a military game
Spin the wheel, watch the ball
Your numbers up . . . upon the wall."
Faceless specters haunt his mind
Upon the wall? Or left behind?
Perhaps, for those, like him, to heal
Must first control the spinning wheel
No more bullshit, no more games
We owe that much to all the names
With dignity and reverence he stood proud and tall
Then saluted the names upon the wall
"Got a long way home," as he kicked down the gear
Was glad to have made it here.
"Long way home? . . . "Still and all
I've family here, upon the wall."
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