REFLECTIONS FROM THE MOVING WALL... I am a monument to a black period in this country's history. I am the Vietnam wall, composed of two angled granite walls, inscribed with the names of fifty-eight thousand, one hundred thirty-four American men and women who died in hell (that was Vietnam). Many people come to see me. Strangely they come mostly in silence--old people, young people, children, mothers, fathers, widows, and veterans. All for reasons of their own. They bring gifts, pictures, letters, flowers, poems and cigarettes. The letters speak of grief and loneliness and regret. They ask forgiveness. They are an out pouring of pain. The people softly touch names on my face. They water my grass with tears. Then they leave in silence and I hope in peace, for I am more than two stone walls. I am a thank you from a nation that forgot. I am a long past due apology. I am healing for wounds too long left untended. I am a tribute paid to fallen warriors. I AM THE VIETNAM WALL. "America has forgotten the wars, will she remember her warriors"? You may be gone...