The Garden of Stone

by Grace OMaille

A short from Gibbs point of view. This came to me at Arlington just after a friends funeral

The Garden of Stone

I love to stand here, at twilight. To watch the sun go down and the lights come up. It is magnificent to see the history, to remember the sacrifice of all of those that died. Some days, like today its almost like a physical presence. I remember a poem I once read:

Were you afraid?

Did you think you were alone?

You were not

I was there

Did you have questions?

Without answers

Answers without hope

I know

I was there

6234 miles

8883 miles

7219 miles

4030 miles

away from home

I know

I was there

The hot sand

The wet jungle

The dark beach

The cold mountains

I know

I was there

Scared

Brave

Tired

I know

I was there

Now At rest

In the Garden of Stone

Holding you close

In my heart

Praying

Know

I am here

Looking from Arlington over Washington, I remember because I was there too.