Remembering

[Diane Amberg]

     Remembering

Upon the slash that sweeps along the lawn, I gaze
and catch the misty eyes of warriors there who visit those forever young.
We touch the names inscribed upon the wall
that say to all who linger there,
"Remember me, I once lived."

The visitors are older now.
With graying heads they stop and bow
to say a prayer, no longer caring who sees them cry, for those who died
in days long gone.
They left us here to carry on.