The Spirit of the Wall
Three soldiers overlook a wall, keep watch, remain on constant call.
And guard the fields where soft winds blow across the names etched row by row.
In granite black these names appear, a soldier's cry is ever near.
Heard 'neath the din and noise and roar who years ago were joined in war.
It's true the dead do linger here to help a comrade's burden bear.
To speak in silent whispers low to those who near this wall do go.
Not in vain did lives expire, for you to live is there desire.
And likewise speak of sacrifice, of duty, of honor. They paid the price.
Take up the banner with noble stride, and wave it high for those who died.
Sleep not until their justly cause is known to all that they might pause...
And take a moment to reflect. In silent memory give them respect.
Then they the dead will tell your soul, they want your life to be made whole.
Vietnam tore the nation apart. The memorial now seeks to heal a heart.
The tokens that you leave nearby cause hearts to swell with muffled cry.
Reach out to those who linger near, who live, but on the look appear
Like shadows in the eventide: they fight an enemy yet inside.
That with the guard-like statue three with winds that blow so silently
The spirit breathes with living soul and rustles the flag on yonder pole.
And as you search the morning sky and hear the meadow lark on high
You'll know then comrade, you and me are joined for all eternity.
So friend, please venture to the healing wall: in the panels gaze in silent awe.
You'll know then these words I write are true: the spirit of the wall will tell you too.
Richard Hanson
September 1989
