19 Oct

A Walk Through Arlington

A Walk Through Arlington

Come, walk with me past the white stones
Through ancient fields of the fallen
Along paths of dreams not seen
Through aisles of solemn stillness
The oaks and elms not heard
To acres not visited by the tours
Come, walk with me

Past wars and our discontents
We will look for fresh earth
Where a canopy is ready
Where fresh wreaths adorn the new white
Where an anthem and taps sound
Come, walk with me

Past the innocence of youth
The bounty of life never seen
The saga of age denied
Borne by brothers to rest
We will see the past
Come, walk with me

The moment is over the next rise
The white of canopy
Green shoveled aside for the earth
Upon approach
Curfew calls a mother and daughter
Come, walk with me

Stones’ whiteness sears the eyes
A nation’s history cries
Pangs of conscience overwhelm
We are among the young
Born to flower we failed
Such a large bounty to waste
Come, walk with me

One of eighteen years rests
Beloved daughter, Sam
No child will bound into her lap
No child will grace her knee
Her art of mind and heart lost
No warm hearth of ages of love
Come, walk with me

Through alleys of white
Row upon row of young
Never to return to their streets of warmth
Nor to grace a porch
And shout a greeting to the village
Their virtues denied by war
Come, walk with me

Oh Sam, I hurt for you
For denying you your destiny
The bounty of life and saga of age
If only my voice could provoke your silence
We could meet the dawn
And grasp the moon
One would grace your knee with a little one
Give warmth to your mother
Come, walk with me

Our view will turn to and over the river
Where a little tyrant rules
Rising through lies, fear, slaughter and blood
To the applause of a nation
And that of a listening congress
Silence triumphs its halls
Come, walk with me

Come, walk with me
Let us go outside …..and march
Come, walk with me
For Sam and the young resting….in silence

The McGlynn

October, 2007

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Your poem touches me deeply. I cry with you for Sam and for all our sisters and brothers forever lost in this madness. I cry for our country.




Silence this madness.


Surely we should grieve for Sam and our other fallen; however, let us also grieve for the countless (and literally uncounted) Iraqi children. The shame of this war will haunt our nation for generations.


As part of the young generation that has been carelessly thrown into the War I mourn daily for these men and women.

I remember growing up and learning about Vietnam, all the time feeling as though it was a subject that no one was proud to speak of. It was a subject that I remember bringing visible pain to my Father’s face and avoidance on the part of my elders.

I remember my blanket response during conversations about war, “It is very interesting and hard for my generation to relate to. You see, we have never been sent to war, we’ve grown up during peace time.”

I mourn for those days. Days so clear in my memory; like visiting with my friend Matt who was on a two week leave from WestPoint. The days have changed, I now must visit Matt alongside Sam amoung those valleys of white.

My only comfort is in myself, knowing all I can do is my best. To live out my dreams and through those dreams uplift this new generation of vetrans and influence the world that is today. So I walk, I march, I continue forward but in my case, NOT in silence; in a chorus of voices that has the ability to define and change our direction.


Killing and the Killed

The butchering business.
It lives in the mind,
the death of another
a necessary evil.

Death for a taste,
Generations pass on
a narrowing regard
for the right of all
to life,

Industrial might,
Knives in motion,
A thousand hands
working in unison,
A sea of blood on the floor.

And then the war comes,
Men trained to human butchery,
Kill and be killed,
a belief and an enemy,
We will be victorious.

And then the bodies come home,
Killed by bullets and explosives
from thousands of hands
working in unison,
A sea of blood at the door.

~ Stephen McGlinn

margo mucci-ohio met at march

very intense..i lost my love the one i would marry in 1969 vietnam–direct hit by mortar–no body to rest in silence, only a picture and a flag, i cry for my donny now, still, and always will, we are locked in a prison of our “own device” time for a general strike..

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