The Memorial for Unknown Civilians Killed in War
The Memorial commemorates those whose lives were lost, unrecorded,
the collateral damage of military action.
"To whom can one pledge one's allegiance except
to the victims?" That is, to those who speak in silence, on
behalf of our children and of ourselves." Stanley Kunitz
In this decade, how many civilian lives are lost every day as a
casualty of war? On average, 2,174 people die every day as a direct
result of war. Nine out of ten of these are civilians. Half of these
are children.
A simple stone engraved with the words "Unknown Civilians Killed
in War" commemorates those whose lives were lost, unrecorded,
the collateral damage of military action.  By
this stone we honor the civilian men, women and children who perished
in wars both remembered and forgotten.
As surely as any soldier, while they lived they prayed for peace.
In silence now they wait for us to act: to recognize their life
and loss, to give them voice. May this memorial help bring meaning
to their sacrifice and healing to our world.
The Memorial for Unknown Civilians Killed in War was consecrated
first in Sherborn, Massachusetts on May 14, 1994. It was placed
in its present location on private grounds adjoining the town's
Veteran's Memorial. Local children and their families joined Mohammed
Ali and veterans from the community in a simple ceremony of unveiling.
Since that time, more than 5,000 have visited the site.
Why A Civilian Memorial at Arlington?
Civilians die in action as surely and as finally as any soldier.
They also die from the consequences of war: shattered infrastructures,
poisoned water and land, abandoned ordinance. Civilians deserve
to be remembered. By honoring slain civilians alongside our war
dead, we understand and acknowledge the full gravity of war and
the full extent of its cost.  With
that acknowledgment comes an ever deeper reverence for those in
or out of uniform who paid the cost with life itself.
Soldier and civilian die together. Here, together, may we remember
them.
Simple acts bring healing. The placing of this small stone in a
quiet space within the Arlington cemetery may open up a space within
the heart.
Those who visit will be moved by what they see: the sea of headstones,
the stately somber buildings, the eternal flame, this simple memorial.
And when they leave, the memory of this place will help them to
renew their commitment to that end desired by soldiers and pacifists
alike: freedom, justice and peace. 
In the silence of history, the dead speak. And in this stone, they
find a voice previously denied them in this first century of world
wars.
In repose, they tell of careless and willful acts, in which innocent
people suffered and died needlessly. In memory, they reclaim their
right to speak, even as we build more terrible weapons of war.
As we listen, the victims offer us an opportunity for reflection
and transformation. Acknowledging what has transpired, we may yet
imagine alternatives for a better century, and weave an intricate
web of loving kindness.
A Stone With Heart
by Bruce Nichols
This is an excerpt from the daily BLOG entries
from Stonewalk USA 2004, Boston to New York.
 During the
last week when we gathered around the stone before our morning
departure or after breaks along the road, I often found myself
thinking of its origins.
The hard, enduring granite monument we pull was born deep within the heart of
the earth. Forged in molten magma it cooled slowly into the grey-white stone
now mounted on the caisson. Within its crystalline structure is recorded a bit
of the history of our planet.
 When I place my hand on its coarse surface I feel a connection with the earth
and with the vast stretch of time that has brought this monument to its present
form. As I look around its margins and see all the other hands I also feel a
deep connection to those who have chosen to yoke themselves to this task. Moving
this stone is a labor of love, it is work of the heart – the work of our collective
hearts. For, more than our bodies, it is our “hearts” that propel this stone
on its journey toward a “peaceful tomorrow.”
And there are also the many hearts that this stone represents. Hearts silenced
by the untimely intervention of conflict and war. Hearts full of hope and aspiration.
Millions of hearts and their stories, now mostly unknown and lost when they were
prematurely stilled. In its silence and simplicity, this monument to “Unknown
Civilians Killed in War” has become a custodian of those hearts.
In those moments around the stone, standing in silence, I can imagine our living
heart beats pulsing outward like the circles spreading around pebbles dropped
in a still pool. They flow out of our hands upon the granite surface and silently
unite in the heart of this monument with the myriad silent hearts residing there
and with the heart of the earth from which this stone was forged. In that communal
heart our hopes and dreams and prayers are amplified; yoked to a common task
and purpose – the replacing of violence with peaceful methods of conflict resolution – the
end of war and its terrible costs to both civilians and combatants alike  .
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