Azure sky o’er the dead Whose heaven-borne spirits now have fled Through dark vale of David’s dread To judgment now they came. The brightness of the humid haze, No different in the ancient days Of battle scars, when towns were razed And so I walk the same. Even now, the ravaged scar Of local conflict, distant war: The land recalls when battles marred The forests filled with flame.
Some walk in solitude with me Whose bones wait passive under knee. Brave to charge, in terror flee The enemy, they are the same: For dead and dead are much alike, As Solomon in wisdom writes, And Paul whose adage was the fight Fought good, and finishing the race. The ghosts lie prostrate in the land While I cross where berms were planned As monuments to great last stands And retreats tinged with shame. Cannons cross at the Dead Angle, Where North and South were once entangled And Southern hope was slowly strangled. Then the Union won the game. North, some rode with memories To darken homes and lives of ease. Some left limb and black disease To wander, lasting lame. Others lie to slowly molder ‘Mong the trees and lonely boulder Forgotten naught by fellow soldier. Men have fought for enforced claim, For various and lofty goals In these tests of timeless souls To rise above or fall below. The trials that men entertain Are high in any of life’s age. But the crucible of battle rage Is more intense and thus the stage Defines the man: whom he became. Such purpose is beyond our ken But higher still is praise to men To whom God utters, “Well done, friend” For glory and eternal fame.