THE WALL THAT HEALS
I visited “The Wall That Heals” today
Under a partly cloudy sky
The grass was wet from last night’s rain
And so were the tears in my eyes
“Show respect,” the welcome sign said
At the entrance to the grounds
Approaching the wall, the reverence
Could easily be found
The high school band was there in red
And my daughter and son stood close
But among all the people, colors, and sounds
The Wall stood out the most
A loudspeaker came to life, and then
A General stood straight and tall
And while speaking of Airmen, Soldiers,
Sailors, and Marines
In the background, stood The Wall
With a volunteer’s help a comrade’s name
Was desired to be seen
And there it was, on the shiny black face
Panel five west, line one fifteen
Standing in front of my fallen friend
I remembered days gone by
Friends in school and reunited in war
One destined to live, one destined to die
Through moistened eyes I began to see
Past the name and The Wall and the crowd
The sights of battle in a far away land
And fellow Marines crying aloud
Once again I smelled the stench of fuel
And felt the crushing humidity and heat
Now I wept in awe in front of sacrificed lives
Laid down for a nation that fell in defeat
A staccato of gunfire brought me to
Seven rifles firing twenty-one rounds
Then the sound of “Taps” filled the air
It was a powerful, yet woeful sound
On a flagpole tall hung a tattered flag
At half-mast, where it rightfully belonged
The cloth itself was hallowed enough
Because it flew before the fall of Saigon
As grown men wept and welcomed each other home
And emotions were running high
The sound of thunder filled the clouds
As three F-16 Falcons swept the sky
I stood in a daze feeling all alone
Then felt the presence of my daughter and son
And a very good friend who came along
Gave support that was second to none
The Wall reaches out and touches lives
In so many different ways
As sacrifice, service, and bravery strike home
To the visitors who offer their praise
I visited “The Wall That Heals” today
To welcome a lost soldier home
Thank you, my friend, for the life that you gave
All that’s left is your name etched in stone
Bob Petersen, USMC
1967 - 1973
(C) 2005