Monday, September 23, 2013

illuminating antietam

illuminating antietam






the first year it snowed.
she recalled the red sled
and her brother pulling her along
belly down among the grid they sped
so gracefully
placing

illuminating antietam.

now they return every year
letting their little lights shine,
winding down that solitary road
that tells the tale so well
l23,110 strong,
stilled voices mourning

illuminating antietam.

this was their civil war:
oxymoronic bandaged plight,
no white or black there
just red and dread of the day
that didn’t seem to want to end.
that day was spent

illuminating antietam.

and so they all still come
one by one;
impressed by the magnitude
of light's solitary witness.
who’s holy war is this?

illuminating antietam.




I wrote this poem this weekend after reading about the yearly illumination of one of the civil war's bloodiest battlefields. It reminded me of a picture I saw looking at the earth from space at night. There I saw no country, no nationality, no race or religion, but millions of points of light....and hope. I hate war and the idea of all those young men dying in what some might find futility because everyday things change, but basically they stay the same. And as I read and thought about America's bloodiest battle, I thought of the world today...and where I'd like to shine my light.

I like it when history makes me live more in the moment.

Now. Illuminating this cosmos.