In the stillness of the night,
a figure stands tall.
Counting names,
written upon a wall.
One by one,
each name is read
and from His lips,
these words are said.
With each blast,
I heard your prayer.
This is true
because I was there.
In the cold,
I drew you near.
Within your heart,
I felt your fear.
I knew your sorrows,
I felt your pain.
I numbered your tears
that fell like rain.
On the field of battle,
you weren't alone.
I held your hand,
until I carried you home.
A brother,a husband,
a father or son
with out stretched arms,
I held everyone.
As He finished,
a salute was given,
to honor each name
upon a wall is written.
As the night started to fade,
the sun began to call.
So too went the figure
counting names upon a wall.
(The price of freedom is written in stone)

Darryl Willett ~~~~ © 2007
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