There is a forest on the side of a hill
Nearby where I strolled along fringes and byways
Today it has no trails or paths it
Sits unruly uncombed unwalkable out of the way
Just a few acres
Or a few hundred I cannot tell
Millions pass it every year
Without realizing that it
Is there on the other side of the hill
From the big house above
The Cemetery across the Potomac
River from the Capital of the greatest civilization
Ever by some standards of measurement.
The forest on the side of the hill
Will be cut down and bulldozed
Muddily someday though they say it will
Not I am sure they will be proven wrong
Eventually and the question which I asked
Today as I strolled along edges and byways to
The silent rows in their thousands who gave
The last full measure of devotion
Was where the currently
Unborn underage unknown sequels to their unspeakable
Incomprehensible sacrifices
Will be made and for what/why et cetera
When the forest is cut down to house the profane and
Sacred will anyone be closer to the end of the forest
Of platitudes failures untranslatable deeds through which
Soldiers their families people in
General humanity I mean have striven to
Marshal discover regain renew
That mirage called freedom
Outside the uncombed forest on the other
Side of the hill where the cool breeze blows the
American flags perched in the green grass beside the
Monuments to the brave fallen
In their thousands
Or millions I cannot tell.
I wish that the forest
Instead could be allowed to
Stand silently untouched
Sternly overlooking the hills flowers pebbles boots
Gravestones
Like the guards who count to twenty-one in
All Weather All Conditions Always
And I wish that the young
Women and men currently
Unknown underage unborn
Could be allowed to go about the
Business of living loving giving silent
Incomprehensive thanks walking on the
Fringes and byways of
Arlington National Cemetery
On Memorial Day.
Outside the uncombed forest on the other
Side of the hill where the cool breeze blows the
American flags perched in the green grass beside the
Monuments to the brave fallen
In their thousands
Or millions I cannot tell.
I wish that the forest
Instead could be allowed to
Stand silently untouched
Sternly overlooking the hills flowers pebbles boots
Gravestones
Like the guards who count to twenty-one in
All Weather All Conditions Always
And I wish that the young
Women and men currently
Unknown underage unborn
Could be allowed to go about the
Business of living loving giving silent
Incomprehensive thanks walking on the
Fringes and byways of
Arlington National Cemetery
On Memorial Day.
