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Honored Glory poem

By Dana Patillo

Arlington National Cemetery, July 2004

"Here lies in
honored glory
an American soldier
known only to God …"

Here, lies are solemn.

Here, lies are told
in the cadence of boot heels ringing on stone,
in the snap of a bolt shooting home
in the breech of a polished rifle, held at port arms
in white-gloved hands.

Here, we fold our flag
and tell ourselves
the soldier died bravely
in a just cause.

Dead men cannot lie.
Here, all causes are lost.

Here, the living let stones tell the lies
the dead cannot.
To soothe sore hearts, tales are told
of glory in battle,
and courage under fire.

Here, the paths of glory
discolor marble
a shade of brown like dried blood
scuffed into the paving stones
by the slow turn
and turnabout march
of the Guard of Honor
in roped-off sacred ground
in front of the Tomb of the Unknown.

Here, lies are told by presidents and generals.
Here, chiseled stone names no names.
Here, the truth lies sleeping under stone.

Under lies, the truth rests,
but not in peace.
The dead have chisels that cut the heart.

Dana Patillo