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connection, death, destiny, grace, life, living, love, memory, reason, southern, spirit, truth, war
was another time
tho miles between and far from home
a winter’s night
where blue and grey were stood
in battle stance
kept awake too long
a chilly air
pierced at once by hope
and song
back and forth
where lines were drawn
and boys pretended
men to be
listened to the one
then to another
sang and grieved
but never thought
(for long) to leave
tho many knew
tomorrow would become the end
twas just as this
and meant to be
that others would soon learn
where then the first would fire
(the last would fall)
the loser ill forgotten
to the winner’s sword
no words could say
but writers dared to tell us
the battle told with
drum and violin
til one at last
the two would join
along that length of fence
before the river rose
to take their blood
blue and grey were warmed
by songs of home
In the battle of Stones River Battlefield (1862), 80,000 soldiers met at the river to fight for home and honor. Blue and grey were scattered amid the trees. It was New Year’s eve, and music rose from the drums from one camp and then another –
Yankee Doodle,
Dixieland….
The night rolled on as back and forth they played, knowing the morn would come for many as the last. Around midnight, it is said that the Yankee troops began to play “Home Sweet Home”. Almost immediately, the Rebel band joined as did the voices of those who had come to bear arms.
For a while, no longer were there shades of blue and grey,
just men – fathers, sons, and grandsons – children and old men – the best of us miles away from home.
Beautiful!
Thanks, Wendell……. I think it’s good to sometimes remember that we’re all connected; we’re all people just doing the best we know how…. Thanks. – Love, Bobbie
Ain’t it home where the heart’s baptized in courage!
Absolutely, and where the only truth is love….. Thanks, Mira. ❤ Bobbie
Enjoyed the back story to this, as well as the poem of course!
thank you……… 🙂 Love you, Me
we’re more alike than we know in spite of our posturing. Nicely done Bobbie!
Indeed, Jeannie. That which holds us together is stronger than that which pulls us apart! Thank you so much, Jeannie. ~ Much love, B
What is it about the night that soothes our souls, or is it the fear that lurks behind it all which cause us to cower, even in the face of the enemy, so that we agree on a commonground of longing – for a peace that will never be, as surely as the sun rises and renews our ‘courage’, blood lust rising in the red dawn … good men agreeing to hate, lest they die as cowards …
Surely, there are many reasons, but I suspect that in those moments, whether right or wrong, they become convinced that ‘this’ is the only way. You can tell yourself that you would be willing to lose everything you have in order to get something you want. But there’s the rub: all of those things you’re willing to lose are what make you recognizable. Lose them, and you’ve lost yourself. It’s no different with an illusion of truth. If you accept that the truth you’ve always known is illusion, then how do you bear the weight of the sacrifice you’ve already made to a lie? You can’t without losing something that seems to matter more than life – the illusion of truth. Rather than making it harder, mankind has made it easier to hate. We can push a button half a world away and never know that the person we killed – whether there eyes were blue, or whether they knew the words to “Dixieland”. We lose the understanding that they were part of us. Thank you for your kind words. ~ Bobbie