Showing posts with label Marble. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marble. Show all posts

Friday, April 18, 2025

Across the Tidal Basin

From marble dome where Jefferson stands,
I watch the White House from these lands
Its distant frame, so small, so still,
Yet heavy with the nation’s will.

Reflected soft in water’s face,
A house of power, poised with grace.
Between us lies a tranquil gleam,
And all the space for thought and dream.

Jefferson, in bronze repose,
Reads words he once to paper chose
“All men are equal,” carved and true,
Yet shadowed by what he once knew.

The cherry trees bow in the breeze,
Their petals drifting with such ease.
But history does not fall light
It lingers long, it questions right.

I gaze across and feel the span
Of hope, of struggle, wrought by man.
The White House glows in daylight’s hush,
A beacon, and a binding hush.

What freedom means, what justice weighs,
We measure still through modern days.
From monument to mansion’s light,
A nation stares into its fight.

Yet here, between the past and now,
I breathe, reflect, and make a vow:
To bridge this water not with stone,
But acts that prove we’ve truly grown.

Wednesday, April 16, 2025

Arlington Sleeps

Upon the hill where silence grows,
Where marble lines in stillness close,
A thousand names the earth has kept
Here, Arlington, the brave have slept.

Beneath the oaks, beneath the stone,
Lie those who faced the fight alone,
And those in ranks, in skies, in seas,
Now cradled by eternity’s breeze.

The bugle weeps at close of day,
A final hymn where heroes lay.
Each grave a story, cut too short,
Each flag a silent last report.

No anthem swells, no crowds remain,
Just whispers in the falling rain.
Yet here, the nation bows its head
To walk among the honored dead.

Not just for glory, medals, fame
But duty carried without name.
A nurse, a son, a friend once near,
Now part of sacred silence here.

And still, the rows reach toward the blue,
A solemn march forever true.
They ask no praise, no grand display
Just memory that does not stray.

So may we tread with humbled pace
Upon this ground, this hallowed place.
For freedom blooms where sorrow lies
And peace is bought where valor dies.

In Memoriam of True Heroes

The bugle call rings clear across the green,  Where rows of white stand silent in the sun;  The quiet pride of all that might have been,  Be...