through the city to a sacred place.
I fell to my knees. Tears fell from my face.
I offered my thanks for the names etched in stone,
The thousands and thousands who never came home.
Gave thanks for those boys who answered the call.
Forced to be Men. Now here: on The Wall.
I whispered, "Amen," and rose to my feet.
The city was gone. No noise from the street.
I thought to myself, and even dared say,
"Wow, I touched The Wall today."
Then, as I stood under the cloudless sky
Reading names of the dead and wondering "Why?"
I felt an embrace encompassing all.
Black granite arms. The arms of The Wall.
They're tattooed in honor of heroes gone.
Providing some solace for those who go on.
It was then that I realized you can't touch The Wall.
The tears welled again and started to fall.
My tear-filled eyes made it easy to see
Today, The Wall touched me.
By Jared Braithwaite
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