The Path I very slowly walk down the path, Not certain of what lies ahead. My eyes are slightly watering, As I search the names of the dead. My ears are deaf to the surroundings, And there's only one thing on my mind. I very slowly walk down the path, Toward the name I came to find. I've come upon the panel now And I know I'm getting near. I very slowly count the lines, To the name that brought me here. I trace each letter with my hand And my pain begins to show. I shake my head and wonder, Why it was him that had to go. As I rise and look around, I sense that others feel the same, As they too, walk down the path, To find and touch a name. Phil Thornton 1993 Copyright: 2000 This poem was written after my first visit to "The Wall" in 1989.
I very slowly walk down the path, Not certain of what lies ahead. My eyes are slightly watering, As I search the names of the dead. My ears are deaf to the surroundings, And there's only one thing on my mind. I very slowly walk down the path, Toward the name I came to find. I've come upon the panel now And I know I'm getting near. I very slowly count the lines, To the name that brought me here. I trace each letter with my hand And my pain begins to show. I shake my head and wonder, Why it was him that had to go. As I rise and look around, I sense that others feel the same, As they too, walk down the path, To find and touch a name.
Phil Thornton 1993 Copyright: 2000
This poem was written after my first visit to "The Wall" in 1989.