THE WALL OF FACES

You would think thirty-three (33) years later the pain would be a little less. On the contrary, you are missed more than ever. How blessed I am to say that you were my brother. An exemplary person in every aspect of your short twenty (20) years. "No greater love doth a man have than to lay down his life." You gave the ultimate. You taught me so much and you continue to teach me. This Memorial Day, I reflect on the wonderful gift of freedom. Thank you, I love you.
Your kid sister,
Judy

Arlington's Vietnam Dead

I wonder if you walk at night
Among those granaite stones
Awakening sleeping souls to flight
To rattle history's bones

I wonder if you sit to chat
At Mr. lincoln's knee
Discussing all the "this" and "that"
that makes up history.

For history is what stretches wide
Before my brimming eyes
As the shimmering Potomac's tide
Blends with the lighted skies.

Row on row they sleep
Below me, now and forever more.
I count the stones (like counting sheep)
From each and every war.

"Can there be peace?" I'm sure they ask
At Mr. Lincoln's knee.
To bleed and die was our task,
And now we're history.

"but we did not love--we did not live
There was so little time.
Is twenty years too much to giveTo fill an empty shrine?"

And as I stare and listen well
I'm sure that I can hear
A quiet splash in that columned cell
That's another Lincoln tear.

--Your Mother, Esther B. Gates