For Old Virginia - Repost. I forgot to post the 2nd half of it. Sorry.

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Open Poetry #32

For Old Virginia - Repost. I forgot to post the 2nd half of it. Sorry.

Kevo
Member

since 2004-06-02

Posts 466
Navarro County, Texas, USA

0 posted 2004-06-13 02:34 PM

This poem was originally called "The Gift" and had four parts but I have shortened it out of fear of putting people to sleep.  When I posted it under "For Old Virginia" I realized I had forgotten to add the 2nd half of what it was shortened too to give it some depth.  Without the 2nd half it seemed to simply drop off the edge.  So, I apologize for reposting it but hope readers understand why.  Please let me know if it's too lengthy.  Thanks for reading...again.

Inspired by a recurring dream.

I.  "For Old Virginia!"

Billowing smoke suppresses the truth around me.
I know where I am.
I am afield in this brutal confine called Hell.
Alone with my ethereal thoughts.

I must have expired there,
bathed in the blood of my brethren,
on that field strewn with blues and grays
awash in a crimson tide.

As the smoke releases its stranglehold upon me
I find that I am not with the slaughtered.

A man I once knew as brother,
summarily collapses into a lifeless heap
of grays, golds, and reds.
His bleeding coat conceals my cries.

I am overwhelmed by the fragile balance
of grief and elation as I realize my fortune.
I have survived the harrowing advance
of the colorless souls that, at last observance
charged with such ferocity that I nearly quelled my fear
with surrender rather than the report of my musket.

As I lumbered again onto my weary feet,
I lifted my gaze to the battered field
so poignantly stretched out before my grievous eyes.

The sacrificial screams of free men,
etched into memory,
shall haunt the rest of my lamenting days.
Perhaps death would have befriended me.

Without provocation, I remember with great clarity
the moments before my shameful loss of consciousness.

'Twas' without reserve they charged so gallantly.
Not once, not twice, but thrice
for "Old Virginia," I think it was.

Yes, I heard the cry
as clearly as I heard
the report of their unruly cannons.
I admired their valor beyond measure
as I witnessed their impassioned resolve.
I'd almost wished I could share in their Glory
...almost.

II.  Bitten by Despair

However, fruitless their charge, seen by some,
I find that it indeed changes the manner
in which we endeavor to engage them;
for we nearly lost this hallowed ground.

Perhaps divine intervention tendered our victory here
for surely we were all in awe of their abundant prowess
and unyielding advances.

With these thoughts
battling for their respective validity,
I continue my solemn gaze
upon this tainted place.

This battle has found its resolution,
there, before my woeful eyes.
I stand amidst my fortuned brethren,
yet I stand alone.

I have found myself at the edge of this open field
with its yielding orchard strewn
seemingly endlessly to the side.

Dead, wounded, and despondent
litter this blushing field
by an immeasurable number.
'Tis' a crimson sea of lifelessness.

The unrelenting stench of death
laced in black powder
courses through the air like a plague
while the heaving sky continues its struggle
for breath overhead.

This familiar stench surrounds me;
completely enveloping all of my senses.
It is as I thought,
as "Victory" resounds
down the edge of the field.

A blue sea of kepis take flight
in this afternoon sky
as azure begins to pierce the horrid smoke
with it's abundant rays of hope.

Copyright, Kevin V. Reese, 2004

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