Nancy L. Meek


Encounter At The WallI reached my hand to the wall, crying,
At a loss to understanding why
These soldiers, my brothers-in-arm,
Were picked out of all of us
To be the chosen ones to die.
I raised my hand to one name carved
In granite so cold and still
Traced his name with my fingers
Trying to swallow the bitter pill.
I looked up through my tears, praying
For an answer which made some sense
Feeling a comrade’s spirit touching me
With his lingering essence.
I felt a brother’s hand, gently pressing,
Resting, on my shoulders so tired of war
I heard him, too, there behind me crying,
Asking, “What were they dying for?”
Leaning my head against the wall,
I had no answer for him
In this place where spirits linger
Torn from the battle dark and grim.
I placed my hand on his, clutching
In silent communication, reliving
The visions of hell on earth
Watching our buddies dying
Blown away through jungle grass
Wondering what could we have done
To save their ass
Why isn’t it my name, I cried,
Emblazoned there in the wall?
I heard him whisper, “I love you for that.”
Then felt his hand move away
Then with swollen eyes, I turned,
To face this friend behind me
But there was no one there at all.
I felt a chill run down my spine
As a warm breeze brushed my cheek
I looked up into the morning sky, squinting
At the sound of an eagle’s shriek.
He soared in majesty in sky of blue
Without a care of earthly things below
I envied his spirit, blowing there
Free from the sounds and scenes of dying
Owning the world in which he flew.

A response to the poem, “Spirits in the Wind” ~ ©Copyright July 2000 by Gary Jacobson