This time, only my second,
We were nearly alone
Descending gravely
Into a reflection of names
And selves.

(I admit that sometimes
I prefer to walk behind you
In deference –  this time, though,
It was to watch your shoulders
Heave forward, your neck tighten,
As you sunk into that space
Only you know.)

We stopped twice:
First to let the loudly curious girl
Behind us pass, our careful gaits
No match for her rapid conquering
War memorial check-off pace,

Then, as we rose back into
The green morning, you brushed
Your right hand as a farewell
Across the polished ebony
And whispered.

Nearby, an ancient couple
Posed with the Three Servicemen,
The two chattering in Vietnamese
And grinning for each other,
The trio of newly uniformed soldiers
Staring off camera at some old atrocity.

And I, offering with pointing fingers
And waving hands and slow English
To take one photo of all of them,
Together, just barely released the shutter
Before the sorrow and loss and unknowing
Came into focus, and I returned to you,
In first tears.