I last visited my father's grave at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery in September 2021. If there is such a thing as beauty to behold in a final resting place for those who served, it exists there just south of St. Louis on the banks of the Missis… Read on blog or Reader Mark Johnson Stories Read on blog or Reader The Soldier on the Hill Mark Johnson May 27 I last visited my father's grave at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery in September 2021. If there is such a thing as beauty to behold in a final resting place for those who served, it exists there just south of St. Louis on the banks of the Mississippi River--fourteen hundred miles east of where I live and write today. On this Memorial Day, I remember Dad--and the thousands of fallen soldiers gathered around him--with twelve lines I wrote on August 27, 1996 ... almost three years after he died. This poem and forty-one others appear in my book A Path I Might Have Missed. *** The Soldier on the Hill I talked with the soldier on the hill today. We sat, we cried, we laughed, we prayed. The bells rang true, the trees stood free. A breeze swept past to welcome me. Shadows filled the landscape then. Tempers rose without his pen. Snowflakes fell, the grass turned green. All without a change of scene. Now the soldier rest with them, Hand-in-hand--all blessed again. They greet another trailing soul. Who makes the journey past the knoll. Comment Like You can also reply to this email to leave a comment.

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