Thursday, June 3, 2010

The Roses of Arlington

The lost order of the sons of liberty
Lies in the neat tally of white stones,
Where the chaos of destruction
Becomes the order of memory.

Cold marble to mark a life passed
Adorned with wreaths of dying roses,
Cut from stem to serve their dues,
To flourish as a symbol and die.

No one sees a rose in death,
They wilt and fade to dust;
A rose is always full and pure,
Always blooming in the face of love.

This emblem of the bravery of love
Lives forever as a symbol of unity.

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