The Mourning Wall

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By Bill Krause

The sun spills its light and warmth, On that cold, black granite wall,

To shed its stillness of fog shrouded mists. To be drawn to it, to scan the heroes,

But I have turned away, But I have turned away.

That mourning wall I have tried to view, To see names of my comrades I once knew

I have tried three times to visit them, To commune with these, my fallen friends,

But I have turned away. But I have turned away.

I tried to see but my nerve did falter, To stand in awe at this hallowed altar,

To give honor to my brothers-at-arms. While I still live,

But I have turned away. But I have turned away.

For I cannot face that black granite wall, With names etched into the cold stone.

Friends and strangers but to share, Only I cannot be there to stare.

But I have turned away. But I have turned away.

I have tried to see, but my eyes grow damp, I cannot gaze through the mist of tears,

I am saddened at the sight of the black block, All that is left of my brothers in arms.

But I have turned away. But I have turned away.

When at last I will go to see, I do not know when the time will be

I will seek out my friends, those on the wall, Who will always live in Heaven’s halls,

Of their family and friends and all, To see, and then,

I will not turn away, I will not turn away.