by
Roland Ricker May 24, 2000
a witness for my brother
I will be his eyes and ears
and will trace those names for him.
I will be guided in my steps
and pause, prompted by my brother.
I know some of the names will be
names of men he served with,
names he would want honored so.
I walk along and trace and say aloud,
name after name, and join the tears
of those focused on a special name
amd join in the memory in that moment.
I will stare at the bits and pieces of notes
left behind by those
who knew someone so well,
and of the flowers and love left behind.
I think, with shame, of those of our own
who shouted and insulted them
when they were back home in the land of the free.
There is a low murmur, a low and musical hum.
And I think that the murmur
is the sound at last of a grateful nation
And I think even more of the love of those
whose love was forever theirs.
And somehow feel my brother's touch
as in just one sense,
I leave the Wall behind.
