The Wall

I saw the war memorial
One hot, August night.
Dark – Quiet –
The tourists are not here
So long after midnight.
Approaching reverently;
I begin my slow walk
Along the pathway.
The first name.
Then another,
And another, another, another.
The wall begins to build;
It twists,
Naming more names,
More deaths,
Dying attempting to give meaning
To earlier deaths.
And still it builds.
Taller than me now;
She is a cold, black, faceless wall.
Containing thousands of faces.
I am compelled to stop;
To attempt to absorb
Some small part of it.
So many names.
I cannot read them all.
Jessie R. Ellison, Harlan Hahn,
Arthur R. King, Alvin Baumgarten.
Do I honor them
When I read their names?
Then, reaching out - -
Touching,
Just one, single name.
Does it matter which one?
I did not lose anyone precious to me.
But here, up against this wall;
Here I feel
That I have lost thousands.