Gettysburg

This is how it must have looked by the third day,
Crossing the field of battle toward Cemetery Ridge:
Here and now where the corn has been harvested,

The stark stalks and husks lying where they fell,
Littering the broken field like sun-bleached bones,
The screams of men now cries of an army of crows.

Soon, cannonades of thunder, a blood-red dusk.
And tonight, every soldier's prayer: may our children
Never cross a field in battle or in memory of war.




Poetry by countryfog
Read 429 times
Written on 2011-02-01 at 16:32

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
I really enjoyed this one, Fog. I liked the corn and crows standing in for the stricken soldiers.

I went to Gettysburg a few years ago. It's a strange place. The fields are open and quiet, a very small area for such incredible carnage. There are signs around saying what happened when and where, and armies of wandering tourists.
2011-02-06