(Gallery Featured Below)
Ghostly white elegant marble edifices
stand vigil -
honored dead in hushed repose
exist in dignified equidistance
from fellow fallen.
Shade from aged oak and cherry trees
enshrouds those muted witnesses
of violent histories and broken dreams,
stray leaves dotting this,
a most hallowed ground.
Somewhere, camouflaged within rustling of trees,
singular notes of all too-familiar
“Taps” are played -
the haunting sounds drift
over tear-stained grass,
welcoming a new arrival.
All rest with a silent,
divorced from the violent author of their passing here -
in Section 60.
Fathers, sons, brothers, sisters and mothers
claimed by eternal
are but still witnesses to unfathomable horror.
And in a clear space,
the accomplished soldier
is accompanied by that young woman -
loving still, lying prone,
with that special type of unspeakable,
all-consuming, soul-shattering grief.
~ Bill Breneman ~