by Sherryl Craig

Created on: March 28, 2010

Ghosts of History

The rain falls

The clouds roll past

The wind howls, cold and cutting

As I look out my window I see them

The soldiers who still roam here

They walk across the field

Immortally held in time

Their battle is not over

They fight as if it was yesterday

They know not where they lay

They know not where they travel

Only that they keep walking

The rain falls

The clouds roll past

The wind whispers as they march

I hear them as they talk of home

Where are their friends

Is this war worth all this?

I smell the gunpowder as if it were just fired

I see the blood, red and running over the land

The mist’s that surround them is the veil of death

Cannon fire so loud I almost lost my breathe

The clanging of swords as cold as ice

As I stand here in the field I feel them all around

Musket fire whistles like rockets in the air

As I walk through this house

I see the past, I see them

Do they see me, I wonder?

My dinner table has guests tonight

They play cards by candle light

The smell of cigars and sweat

So musky and yet sweet

I see their eyes, empty, afraid and yet so brave

How they yearn for home

Music plays, harmonica and fiddle

Someone beats a drum, rat a tat tat

Rat a tat tat, solemn and steady

The uniforms are grey and tattered

Blue and dusty

Both sides come together

Laughing in camaraderie

No more fighting tonight

Just drink and rest

The battle will begin again tomorrow

Never ending for them

Their wounds will not heal

But go on forever open

They know who won

Even though the battle took them all

They know the victor

The one’s who became heroes

They know who won

No sides to divide

No orders to carry out

Who won?

They did

Now as morning comes

I can sleep in quite

The house is still once more

Soldiers have moved on to rest

Until the night comes forth again

And they come from the shadows to

Roam once more.

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