THE BLACK WALL

a poem by Edward Patrick Chapman, USA

I visited The Vietnam Wall,
those large black granite slabs are very tall,
Each name on the Wall will be there for all time,
ignoring the sacrifice each made would be a crime!

Everyday many tourists walk by it and cry,
holding back tears many Vietnam veterans try,
Those fifty-eight thousand names on the Wall,
all stepped forward when duty would call!

A young soldier in the jungle is in deep thought,
knowing he could die while he fought.
A Marines family wants him home soon,
now his name can be read by the light of the moon!

A young Texan's name appears on the Wall,
who held his head high and stood very tall.
He met his fate in a hot rice paddy,
yet back home a little girl is proud of her daddy!

A new wife lost her husband in that war,
in a foreign country that indeed was very far.
His name on the Wall makes her cry everyday,
but she cannot stop, try as she may!

You walk along the Wall and wonder,
over the roar of motorcycles of Rolling Thunder.
Did all these brave young people die in vain,
while their families to this day feel the pain!

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