Smoke and Mirrors Issue 2 - The Wall
The Wall
by Karl Weiss
I walk along the path
and a chill wind sends shivers up my spine.
I reach panel 9E
and my unseeing eyes look beyond
to the crash and flames of the past.
My fingers press into the stone, unfeeling,
bringing remembrance. Again,
the pain, the sorrow.
I look inward, and see through my tears
long forgotten places, our callow, shallow faces,
aged long before our time.
I remember! I remember the wrath
of the Gods of War,
bringing fire, shrapnel,
burning flesh, loose entrails,
ours, theirs.
Wiping my eyes, I continue
down the stone path, hearing my heels
click in the dark.
It is 2 in the morning. Dark.
The best time to be here.
I see others, dressed like me,
field jackets, boots.
We acknowledge/don't acknowledge each others presence.
With a nod, or not.
Lost in our own memories,
sharing a common bond, never
understood by those who were
never there. Brothers.
Each of us lost in our own memories
from that time of the not distance enough past.
I stop at 5W. Tenderly run my fingers
along the stone, remembering friends,
days of heat, light, sound, fury that came from the
clear sky, ending day and night for so many.
My eyes fill once more.
When I can see again I look at
the things left behind. Detritus of our
past, or healing? Boots, medals, pictures.
Some have meaning to me, others I can guess at.
Some are totally private. A stuffed bear, an
empty candy box.
I cry again. Through the tears I
see pictures - some against the wall, others
from my past, lost in time and space and my mind.
I wander to the end of the wall, not seeing
the others, them not seeing me. Each alone.
I wonder why I am here, and others are not.
Will I ever find peace?
-end-
Copyright (c) 1993 Karl Weiss
