Dave Rickert

Dave Rickert
Location
Tucson, Arizona,
Birthday
May 19
Title
Its in the glove compartment
Company
Yes. I always enjoy it.
Bio
I have always tended to take the road less traveled. Sometimes I get lost; sometimes the road is under construction; and sometimes the road leads nowhere or everywhere. Regardless of my choices, I always learn, and never regret the journey.

MY RECENT POSTS

MAY 26, 2011 2:14PM

Whispering Wall - Repost for Memorial Day

Rate: 21 Flag
 
 
Vietnam Wall1
 
I have posted this piece before, but I thought I would post it again, now that we are involved in three shooting wars that use real bullets, and important segments of our future generation of young people really die.  
 
This is not the popular video game "Call of Duty, Black Ops," this is the reality of death.  This is about mothers, young wives, and children crying uncontrollably over the coffins of kids barely 18 years old, lives snuffed out prematurely, and dreams unrealized.  War is real, not a concept or video game for the warriors and their loved ones.
 
 In peace, sons bury their fathers. In war, fathers bury their sons.
Herodotus (485 B.C. to 425 B.C.)

I wrote this piece a long time ago, but the lesson is still there.  i.e., when will we ever learn?
 
History does not necessarily repeat itself, but it rhymes.
 
 

Whispering Wall

 

The marble is darkened, but the names are clear;

Listen to the whispers and you’ll feel the fear.

It is quiet now; they’ve all gone to rest;

There may be some brighter, but these are the best.

 

Suddenly there’s life; there’s movement again;

No smiles, no laughter, only quiet men.

When you look at the names, you see your face;

And the words disappear without even a trace.

 

The black voices reach for you, but you turn away.

You’re here, you’re now, but where are they?

“Tell me why” here; “Tell me how” there;

The confusion of silence fills the air.

 

As we move by with reverence, and a tear in our eye;

We wonder aloud why these had to die.

Now they are quiet, not a sound do you hear;

Just unknown names on a marble veneer.

 

Their skin isn’t wrinkled, and their hair’s never gray;

But they show their age in a much different way.

Although we don’t know them, they belong to us all;

Every last name carved on the wall.

 

When you’re too old to fight, and you no longer ask “why”;

You just rattle your saber, and send the young off to die.

We said we sent them because of our love for the flag;

That love seemed elusive when they zipped up the bag.

 

We did it once, but don’t do it again;

Don’t tarnish the deeds of these brave young men.

Don’t tell them they'll die for a noble cause;

Tell them the truth, and let them give pause.

 

Listen to the whispers; hear the pain;

Don’t give up your sons for a foolhardy gain.

And if you are tempted to pull out your sword;

Remember these men and their empty reward.

 

                                               Dave Rickert

                                                          Memorial Day, 2000


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Comments

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Thanks for re posting Dave...Good to see you here.
This is the perfect post to remind us of this weekend. I loved it the first time and it still touches my heart.
rated with love
Thanks for reposting and always nice to see you here
rated with hugs
Slow tapping drums,
a brass horn blowing slow.
A young woman in a uniform
sings the whispering wall
as our flag waves in the wind.
Good to see you Dave, with your repost that is very appropriate and poignant. Love the Herodutus post - such truth in there. Happy Memorial day weekend, hope you're doing well.
♥R
Hello stranger! This poem is absolutely beautiful. I am reminded of the one and only time I visited that memorial and seeing my tearful face reflected in the blackness. I was forever affected.

Lezlie
terrific then and now so pleased you're here r.
I love this post, Dave. Very touching, poignant, and most of all true!
R
Thank you for reminding us of what Memorial Day is really about. If you are interested, I also cross-posted a piece on my OS blog about a co-worker of mine whose father was KIA in 1971 and finally received a proper burial after 40 years.
Thanks Dave.
And when you/me search the black marble wall for someone we knew, and loved ...
When we look at the Vietnam War Memorial we see our own reflection,
and we see.
Our image.
`
This post honors those who went 'down' and went-off somewhere (and in immaterial)`
Spirit disembodied`
essence (soul) form`
on and on ... 'In `Nam`
`
We'd stay sane and say`
`
And it don't mean nothin'
and it is a combat riddle.
Comradeship. Brothers.
`
sigh
thanks
take care
I hope they listen and I hope they understand. It is always good to read you, Dave. Happy Memorial Day weekend to you, my friend. R
Enough to make one weep, Dave.
Printing and mailing beneath personalized cover to a friend who knows the darkness. Thanks, DR.
This is gutwrenching. The null and void of darkness within the whispering walls is never filled.
Good to see you dave. R
Dave, a few short weeks ago I stood at a similar wall of white marble this time ... carved with all those young men who lost their lives on the USS Arizona on that black December day in Pearl Harbour. As I stood there and I could hear the whispers and feel the pain.

Your moving, heartfelt poem gives me pause again. Thank you, Dave.

Lest we forget ....
Lest we forget ....
It is those whispers of the living left behind that haunt my soul.
Thanks Dave. There is no good wars. ever. Only the ones left to pick up the pieces of their souls...
This is even better the second time around. Hope your fine too?