Hallowed Ground
As walkway descends, the wall seems to rise
Gently with no warning it climbs toward the skies
Before I know what's happening it's far above my head ...
Rows and rows of precious names revealing those now dead.
Is this the way it happened ... escalating over time?
Is this the way it happened ... as to outcome...were we blind?
What starts out full of promise ... what starts out "for the best"
Can cost a price so dear it puts reason to the test.
Even with no loved one's name to find upon the wall,
I feel the sting of painful loss ... for each who had to fall.
Seems this place is perfect ... where airplane sounds abound
For me I know for certain ..... I stand on hallowed ground!
Figures searching...touching...rubbing, as if polishing the stone.
Searching, touching, rubbing for some bit to take back home.
More than just a souvenir or snapshot for a book
Each rubbing says we won't forget the awful price it took.
The "tree" vet keeps his distance still awaiting time to heal.
Within his silent vigil he'll remember, watch and feel.
Bronze statues in the tree line seem to simply pause in time.
Many hands caress them daily as to say..."wish you were mine."
Peace on earth, good will to men is mouthed it seems ...in jest,
As round the world wars battle on and take the very best.
God of love teach me how to live where PEACE abounds
And to remember always....times I've stood on hallowed ground!
-Barbara Jack- 1994
Hallowed Ground Back Story
My first trip to Washington DC was a life changing experience for me. I was there for a convention and did not have time for all the sights. I knew I wanted to go to the top four places on my list. They were the Lincoln Memorial, the National Cathedral, the National Art Museum, and the Vietnam Wall. I wasn't disappointed by any of them, but the Vietnam Wall is the one that grabbed my heart.
I was there in the evening with a group of professional speaker friends. We sat on the grass with the Washington Monument behind us and a platform and the wall directly in front of us. I was busy having three kids during the war, watching the news and praying for peoples' safe return. Now, here I was sitting with good friends who had fought and lost friends there. We listened to music from back then like "Where have all the flowers gone?" and sang along. Some of the group came up on the platform to share their memories of Vietnam. Clebe McClary, Marine 2nd Lt. retired, was first. He was in his dress uniform. There was a black eye-patch where his left eye used to be and his left sleeve was folded up and pinned. He stood straight and tall and you never would have guessed it took 34 surgeries before he could walk again. Clebe told us about being carried into a medic tent on the battle field. The medics did not believe that he would live, so his troops lined up and one by one they walked to the head of his cot and saluted their leader to pay respect to someone ready to leave it all on the battlefield for them. Clebe was and still is a very brave man who survived to tell the tale of so many now found on the wall.
Barbara Jack reads Hallowed Ground
A retired Army nurse in her uniform came up next. She told of how she had been a "tree vet" for a long time. By "tree vet" she meant standing at a distance, in the trees, afraid to get too close, for fear she would start crying and never stop. One day a friend convinced her that they should go to the wall together. They did and the healing began. Another time they wore their nursing uniforms and family members would come up to thank them for anything they might have done for their loved ones. More connections and more healing. They go together ... it's hard to heal alone.
I was moved by the setting of the wall. Planes and helicopters from Washington National Airport came so low over the sight that it sounded like Vietnam war on the news. The slope of the ground lets the wall start low and then grow. Much like the war itself. The bronze statues near the trees are life size, polished by loving touches, and show nurses and rescuers. With just small lights by the sidewalks, we moved along the wall in silence except for the sounds of bugs that fly at night,
airplanes and the breeze in the trees. I was sad for the fallen, proud of all who fought and hopeful that we would not have to go through such a fight again soon.
The following day we went back in the daylight. In daylight or darkness I was humbled. People were finding names and doing rubbings to take home. I photographed a family who caught my eye and had my son, Jay, draw the scene to go with my poem, Hallowed Ground. The father leaned heavily against the wall holding a corner of the paper, but couldn't look at the name. The little girl watched with one foot cocked back. Could she understand the importance of what was going on? The mother was crouched down doing what needed to be done to capture the precious name. This family represented to me why the wall is there. It showed remembrance, it showed that life and hope goes on and it showed that children bring new life to help with the pain that never totally goes away.
Barbara Jack - Video of Hallowed Ground full story