A Peaceful Place in San Francisco

I have been to San Francisco scores of times, and have visited the Presidio often when I am in that gorgeous city. But I had never been to the military cemetery overlooking the San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. This time I was fortunate enough to be taken there.

A path leads through a stand of Eucalyptus trees. Stone posts are offset alongside the path and etched upon them is a poem by Archibald MacLeish (The Young Dead Soldiers Do Not Speak).

The path through the Presidio leading to the military cemetery.

I thought I'd post Archibald MacLeish's Poem to go with the photo. The words are etched on the stone walls set among the trees leading up to the burial ground. Here it is.

THE YOUNG DEAD SOLDIERS DO NOT SPEAK
Nevertheless they are heard in the still houses: who has not heard them?

They have a silence that speaks for them at night and when the clock counts.

They say, We were young. We have died. Remember us.

They say, We have done what we could but until it is finished it is not done.

They say, We have given our lives but until it is finished no one can know what our lives gave.

They say, Our deaths are not ours: they are yours: they will mean what you make them.

They say, Whether our lives and our deaths were for peace and a new hope or for nothing we cannot say: it is you who must say this.

They say, We leave you our deaths: give them their meaning: give them an end to the war and a true peace: give them a victory that ends the war and a peace afterwards: give them their meaning.

We were young, they say. We have died. Remember us.

We arrive at the cemetery. The rows of military graves stand in silence with the bay and the bridge before them.

A place to meditate.