Tag Archives: History

September 2, 2012 · 4:52 pm

Gettysburg

One-hundred-fifty years ago, April 1861 through May 1865, marked as one of the darkest times of our country: The American Civil War.

Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, 19-November 1863, stands as one of the most well known speeches in American history. Delivered six months after the actual battle, Lincoln managed to galvanize a divided nation toward a “new birth of freedom” and the prospect of true equality.

The speech, given at the dedication of the Soldiers’ National Cemetery in Gettysburg, PA was delivered by a haggard, mournful and nearly weak president. Reaction to the two minute speech seemed to fall short for many, given the depth of the occasion. Lincoln was subsequently chastised and praised for the eloquent effort in the days and months that followed. Yet the truly succinct content and delivery of eternal tenants of equality, freedom and perseverance left the attending crowd in a dignified silence. No applause was offered when Lincoln stopped speaking, as the crowd was hushed to silence, and then a delayed and weak applause came after.

Nearly eight thousand dead and thirty-nine thousand wounded, captured or missing had resulted from the battle of July first through third 1863, just six months earlier. And as the November dedication ceremonies were taking place, re-interment of bodies from the battlefield graves into the national cemetery was still underway.

The poem below is my attempt to realize the man, and his thoughts and regrets as he prepared to give this speech, on the battlefield of Gettysburg. He assuredly walked the hallowed ground, and certainly struggled with his emotions regarding his responsibility to his office, to the union, and to these men fallen. It must have been a long walk.

This poem attempts to reflect on what I believed I could have felt if I had been there to see the man at this point of difficult challenge for not only himself, but our young nation.

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I’ve seen you there, in sharp relief,
your strength of spirit, iron will
drawn tight into the moment’s point,
silent hope, compassion’s fill,
so contrast the graying battlefield.

I’ve watched you reach for words expressed,
but none could hold your tears in check.
I’ve seen your furrowed brow grow deep,
speechless. Bittersweet this death
that brought the end to souls untold,
now shouting ‘last the fight’s undone,
“These loving arms no more shall hold
the hearts for whom this battle won.”

I’ve felt the pain, impetuous,
draw blooded tears within your soul,
and struggle in one moment’s doubt,
by you, this great and utter toll
one moment’s decision rifted.
For had you seen a sparrow light
before those words, you might have lifted
the pen and lost the thought
that led these young souls here…
Yet granted by the will of God,
your words, a nation sanctified,
that now at bloodied battlefield,
two parts, in union, these lives have tied.

I’ve seen that in your knowledge thus,
no ration found or reason made,
could ease the pain in burden, standing
upon the horrored battle glade.
In dignity you moved between
the fallen throng of man and horse,
your tears in gentle wiping,
your speech suppressed to whisper, hoarse.

I’ve seen your great reflection now,
compassion wrapped humility,
through generations time has wrought
and birthed our freedom, our liberty.

Yet if today your soul still wanes
in what was cast and needed done,
please find enhearten’d confidence,
that greater still the battles run…
for way of life and human rights,
for purposed divined in liberty,
your strength of spirit and compassion real,
has inspired right, has kept us free.
For we are one above the rest
who reach for truth and justice.
Our commitment to the path you took,
thus your soul displayed, before us.

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August 31, 2012 · 2:49 am

The Cottage in the Wood

Amidst the quiet wood, where never the sight of soul is seen,
where deep within the shadowed story, it seems,
there no one has been… ever…

Yet through the tangled brambles and vines wrapped to the dome so high,
when as the sun is setting soft, a clear rosed beam can aid the eyes –
and there amidst the quiet wood, it stood… as if a dream…

A cottage built of stone and stick, wholly swallowed in musty air,
entangled in the over growth, held in place with loving care –

Sitting still I gazed awhile until the dusky light let in
just the slightest edge of truth to the history there within.
As if enwrapped in elixir’s mirth, the day grew light before my eyes,
the clinging vines and woods there, resolved in finer lines –

The cottage path and gated wall, before me clearly stood,
an entry arch of river stone with coat of arms lined in green wood –
Walls of stone ran to the corners, set with rose and daffodil,
while lavender and scattered daisies revealed the caring of this fill –

The cottage, down a garden path, was set with stone, great beams of wood.
The porch and gable facings, of dovetail and a mason’s good
detailing at the window’s ledge.

Entranced, I rose, afraid to lose this dream state’s blessed gift,
yet slowly step, did I, toward the gate, silently adrift
in seas of timeless wonder –

The gate before me, of ancient wood, stood ajar inviting
all my senses to freedom’s grin, thus pulled me through with creaked enticing…

A cobbled garden path before me lay, a quiet welcomed girth,
twixt rose, gardenia and foxglove blooms,
fingered sun and fragrant mirth.

It seemed I floated toward the stoop, whose porch was blessed with swing and peace.
So there I sat with creaking chains, suspended in this dream so sweet –

As I sat and gently swayed, a reverent love enrobed me whole,
the sweetness of a “welcome home” bathed my heart and soul.

Eon’s may have passed, I fear, but not a fret was mine,
for from this place where smiled my soul, there was no sense of time –
but kind the loving left there, by whomever tendered this spot –
until the porch-side window fed my senses with a chicken pot
and scent upon the air,
a longing to “return”,
within the makings of this home,
to love and sweetness, I did yearn…

I left my perch to find the door,
hand hewn woods and hammered fittings,
gently knocked and pushed a tad,
to find myself inside, unwitting…

The light was golden and struck the sides of ancient dust suspended,
glittering in its gentle ride, as if for me intended –

The air was sweet with home cooked love, as if I’d find a stew a-brewing –
and through the simple rugs and chairs the shadows gently blue-ing.

A beam of golden sunset light embraced the kitchen’s hearth and stone,
and as I poked my nose there, no soul was found, but I was not alone –

Beside the hearth, a graying threshold stood,
nearly lost within the shadow, unique in hand hewn wood.

The scent of sweet tobacco beckoned my spirit “enter”,
and as my eyes began to see, my heart declared its center
amidst suspended smoke, left from ancient rest,
with bed and bureau quietly still, at bedside laid two shoes, and vest.

Upon the night stand, racked in dust, a dustless tin type photo stood –
a man, a woman, and a dog – at garden’s edge and wood –
As tho’ I were invited, I raised the photo to my eyes,
and from their kindest faces, I swear I heard the greenwoods sigh –

Her hand was wrapped in his, and tho’ they looked out from the frame,
it felt their eyes were locked on each other by the smiles and kindness lain.
Her eyes were deep in darkened hues, yet sparkled with a love
that only could have been for him, by a life blessed from above-
His were stern and determined, yet gentle in the lines there shown,
that I could tell his heart was hers, and he, her love alone.
The dog, a youthful grin portrayed, yet his colours showed him old and grey,
but this was is home by his look given, and no canine paradise could have beat this heaven –

It seemed as if I knew these three, the longer that I eyed the frame,
I felt a longing overcome my soul and knew I would be blessed in same –

A love so deep that time could not erase,
and truth so lived that even the woods, in decay, would embrace –
A soul so satisfied within the living that even long beyond the grave,
would continue and return with giving.

I know not how long I stood, or how I managed time –
but by the moment dusk was done,
again into the woods went I –

Witnessed there a lifetime’s mark,
the love of two and life of giving –
that stumbled upon in deepest wood,
did bless this one’s living –

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August 30, 2012 · 3:29 am

Histories Walk

Here in lies our history

I’ve walked the fields of stones,
where ‘neath the green of summer’s trees
lay memories of lives in bones –

Through Iowa and Illinois,
through Kentucky’s north and south,
through battlefields in Tennessee
where silence claimed my mouth!

I searched for family’s heritage,
starting with my own,
then deep into the history
of those I’d never known.

Some at rest in displaced fields
quite distant from the ones they loved,
yet sided by side their markers lain,
together here, and still above.

I wondered what regrets they kept
that left them in strangers’ fields,
I blessed and prayed they are at peace,
and that their loneliness has healed.

In some I felt life’s tragedies
might have been too much to bear,
of children lost in early days
as witnessed by the markers there.

Such sorrow overwhelmed me,
such sadness did I feel,
yet words of reassurance came
and prayers that their hearts had healed.

I walked the battlefields, where fallen,
their final breaths had come.
I cried that there was no return
to sights of youth and loving home.

I searched the markers tirelessly
and sought to feel their souls,
imagined I had found the place
where brothers lay when paid their toll.

I stood upon each distant hill
and grasped to feel their echoed hearts.
I sat in summer’s greenest grass
and talked of life until the starts
of sorrow left,
and then with heavy sigh and breath
I cast my blessings true…

… for I am but your distant son,
grandchild, cousin, kin –
and all that is the best in me
was granted by the best in you!

God bless you all –

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