We have come to honor their memories,
to see where they stood and fell.
The cannons still stand ready,
silent sentinels guarding their dead.

We take pictures of places,
erected monuments,
relics left behind and long forgotten.
Sometimes leaving flowers,
and saying a silent prayer.

Today most of the ground has healed itself,
but in certain spots,
the scars run too deep.
There can still be seen the evidence
of what happened here, what was,
and the horror that must of been.

Rising late in the evening,
staying till early dawn,
there is a fog shrouded countryside.
In that grey damp air,
if you listen close enough,
you can hear the battle cries,
the screams of the wounded and dying,
the artillery.
That fog is filled with odors,
powder, gunsmoke, and the stench of death.

Those mountains are full of ghosts,
that will echo forever in my mind.
I can only imagine what these soldiers,
some of whom were just boys,
lived through and died in.
The thoughts of which,
sends chills throughout my body.

09/03/2004

Author's Note: based on events during our recent trip through Georgia, Tenn, Alabama, and Mississippi, and a long ago visit to Gettysburg.

Posted on 09/03/2004
Copyright © 2024 Adrian Calhoun