Nancy L. Meek


One stands, frozen,
moved by “The Wall”,
suddenly struck
by the power of it all…

Names-through-tears rubbed and traced;
the distant stares, a wrinkled face,
some still trying hard to embrace
the fact that not one would ever see
the beaming smiles of waving wives,
relieved parents’ arms thrown wide,
and grinning kids, their little legs racing
toward their “Daddy!” who hasn’t died;

Such are tuned out by the stoic brass
hunkered over their worn maps of Hell,
sticking pins in them to save their ass;
as millions of others died… Oh, well.
“Daddy!” it seems, means nothing at all,
unless he happens to be yours, alone
and his name is still there on “The Wall”
lovingly… eternally chiseled in stone.