Читать книгу The Storyteller - J. Michaels - Страница 12

Blood draining from me

Into the dirt, my bed

An unusual place to die

An unfit burial ground

It seems like so long ago

When a mere boy I was

Running through those golden fields

Riding ole Bess to school

Then one day the soldiers came

Stern faces accepting no objection

Insisting we join them or else

To defend our sovereign nation

So Daddy, Bruce, and I departed

From our beloved Carolina home

Donned the woolen grey suits

That marked us rebels all

Mama’s crying, Sissy too

Left man less and defenseless

Tears in all eyes, ours too

So sad, and proud, and scared

The first day wasn’t so bad

A few shots and cannons away

Still no blood flowing

No wounds to slay

By mid morning of the next

My brother lay in my arms

Nearly breathless and speechless

His life seeping away

The Lord took him that day

Bruce’s blood on my sleeves

The darkness had dawned

My life would never be the same

Before the day ended

I lost my daddy too

A hole in his head, instantly dead

In one short day, three less two

From that day onward

I never really cared

If bullet or bayonet forced me

To join my men folk at Heaven’s gate

At least that’s where I hope we go

When I leave this world so foul

I’ll tell you very shortly

Farewell, my fallen friends

From the poetry collection Common Ground