Darkness fell with killing frost
on blood soaked earth,
determined, dead and
quivering armies, draped
over Marye’s Heights.
Burnside cried,
“those men….
those men…I am
thinking of them
all the time.”
But I must think of us,
back to back on frozen bed,
waiting for the sun;
to rise and heat the day
with well aimed words.
Author notes
Written October 11th, 2004
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Intriguing
Very interesting how you used the idea and imagery of civil war in this poem which is seemingly about a war of souls and the coldness of the dying of love. What I get from this is that words can kill and words can heal. At the beginning of the poem it seems that the damage has already been done and at the end a healing is being contemplated and sought. -
true.
Words, words are all i have....
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