Saturday, November 12, 2011

"The Stream"

The stream of people flowed   
in and out of museums   
up and down hundreds of marbled steps   
Laughing loudly,   
children dashing around the Mall   
Vendors with ice cones,   
lemonade, chips and pretzels   
We flowed with the stream   
hot and tired   
from walking all day   
Our voices rose on the summer’s breeze   
happy, vibrant, alive   
Then we came to The Wall   
with mirrored surface   
and name after name after name   
after name   
The stream slowed   
it ebbed   
Voices hushed to soft whispers   
butterfly touches   
caressing the carved names   
We stood,   
fingers woven together   
searching through our reflected images   
for another reflection   
The stream stopped   
losing its motion   
it shimmered in the silent   
deep pools   
Our heads bowed   
we sighed   
Our breath caused motion   
and the stream trickled    
It flowed past the wall   
and spilled onto a   
grassy area   
where past and present   
water the future   

Copyright 1996 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

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