We weep today for those

whose names are carved on this wall,

for those whose bodies

tumble in distant waters,

for those who’ve never returned

from the dust of another country.


We weep too these old soldiers

standing here to the boom of the guns

and the haunted brass of bitter bugles.

They empty their tears for themselves,

for the lies they believed,

for the boys they once were

before they learned to kill.

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