Standing upon that landscape of marble markers
snaps our American sensibilities into sharp focus
and redefines our sense of patriotism.
We arrive as tourists.
Turning off a turn-about onto Memorial Drive
and onto a new perspective, we are forever altered
in a single, solemn moment.
Dignity and respect.
Elegant lines of stone suddenly stretch out,
hill after hill, broad groves of remembrance,
where Taps creates sinkholes of loss in mourners’ hearts,
gun salutes cracking the sky and resonating through their lungs…
How many times have the trumpets blown
those strong courageous notes that slice through the thickest silence?
The Ginkgo trees, the oaks and maples — soldiers, all,
standing rigid guard against the bite of November wind
in the barren stretch of late fall. Yet, sunlight makes Arlington beautiful,
glazing the rolling fields of markers:
gentle touch of a Heavenly hand, the promise of a future.
We arrive tourists.
We take small helpings of history,
snap photographs, and buy souvenirs
before crossing the bridge to Arlington National Cemetery.
We arrive tourists, but depart
simply
thoroughly
gratefully
American.
Ash Krafton is a writer of essays, poetry, and novel-length fiction. She lives in the heart of the coal region of Pennsylvania and is a member of Pennwriters. Visit her blog at http://ash-krafton.livejournal.com.
8 Responses to “AFTER ARLINGTON • by Ash Krafton”
Comments
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July 4th, 2009 at 1:28 am
Emotive well written poem with great imagery.
July 4th, 2009 at 3:31 am
Impressive and redefining the sense of patriotism poem.Enjoyed every line for precise picture of the Memorial and exact feelings experienced there.
July 4th, 2009 at 7:57 am
I think the line “Dignity and respect” cuts both the poem’s solemnity and the “suddenly” aspect of the deepened tourists’ perspective caused by seeing the line of stones. Also, the word “elegant” doesn’t match solemnity in feeling. But except for some reservations regarding that little lexical corner of the poem, it’s very good.
July 4th, 2009 at 6:42 pm
This doesn’t read as poetry. It seems to be a prose piece divided into lines and stanzas in an ad hoc fashion.
As for a message, beyond championing the newfound blind patriotism of the ‘tourist’ narrator, I can’t find one.
The poem seems to celebrate Arlington cemetery as a place rather than those buried in it.
Sorry
July 4th, 2009 at 6:44 pm
This doesn’t read as poetry. It seems to be a prose piece divided into lines and stanzas in an ad hoc fashion.
As for a message, beyond championing the newfound blind patriotism of the ‘tourist’ narrator, I can’t find one.
The poem seems to celebrate Arlington cemetery as a place rather than mourning the loss of those buried in it.
Sorry
July 4th, 2009 at 6:56 pm
I would have liked it better without your spelling out at the end the specific place you were talking about–that made it read a bit like a travel brochure. The reader should be able to determine the location from the images and clues given. Other than that, I thought it quite good.
July 4th, 2009 at 8:00 pm
“where Taps creates sinkholes of loss in mourners’ hearts,” — to me that line says much about those buried and those left behind. I feel the solemn awe of the tourist at the vastness of the sacrifice contained here.
July 6th, 2009 at 7:17 am
Paul Freeman – I tried to find why you found this prose-like whereas on first reading I immediately found it poetic, so I tried reading it straight through to myself as prose and it immediately began separating itself into rhythms and cadences, fighting the simply prosaic aspect without effort, by itself. There is no way to find the musical aspect in non-musical writing except by one’s own responses. I just thought I’d let you know I gave the phenomenon my interested attention after reading of your reaction.
I agree with PSC about the “message.