Anthony W. Pahl


My epitaph is written in words my family knows so well
And beneath the soil of my native land, my body rests a spell.
The lawn is mowed, the flowers new, and the headstone – it doth gleam.
The cost? My life! It was taken so my countrymen can dream.

Those dreams are for the freedom of our thoughts and of our words
And they are dreams of happiness and peace to all on earth
With dreams to believe in what we will and never be denied
and dreams that hope and justice will never be decried.

So my friend, my mortal bones have returned back whence they came
But my soul soars free in freedom’s land and I hear you call my name
Yes! Loudly I can hear you call for the time is drawing nigh
When you stand in front of the granite shrine and allow yourself to cry.

I will be watching and listening too, as you walk down to my name
With feet that are no longer yours and a mind that’s numb with pain
It will have taken you more than thirty years to walk those last ten yards
But The Angels Of the Wall are there and they will be your guides.

You have dreamed often of those Angels, for I have read your words
And the pleas and prayers that you have said, I have always heard
But the time has not, till now, been right for you to cross the line
That line can only be ever crossed with a bridge built over time.

God arranged a friend from far away to help you reach that bridge;
A friend who’ll lend a steady hand as you crest that awesome ridge
For together you can reach the line that apart you’ve failed to reach
And when you do, you both will find the direction that you seek.

Author’s Note: Dedicated to my friend, Richard D. ‘Boondocker’ Preston.

The “Angel of the Wall” Trilogy

Part 1: Angel of the Wall by Richard D. Preston
Part 2: I Know the Angels by Anthony W. Pahl
Part 3: Long Weight by Lucille J. Biscaglio