| |
A courier rider hands his papers to me;
They are instructions from Robert E. Lee.
I am advised now is the time
To stop the troop movement on the Rock Island line.
I muster my men and they load up the boats
We powder our pistols and darken our coats.
Traveling the currents, the sun slips from sight
As brave men with a purpose have gathered to fight.
We capture a bridge before the moonrise
The Yankees who are here shall soon feed the flies.
The evil of war feeds on my brain
As I light the fuse to destroy a train.
Above us a trestle of timber and tar
As we pull our oars for a willowed sandbar.
From the banks of the river; we watch it approach;
There's shadows of soldiers, in the windows of a coach.
With a burst of bright yellow and a roar in my ear
I hear them scream as they're falling in fear.
The river is boiling in steam, steel and stems
Back home their families shall soon sing funeral hymns.
The one lone survivor was a red stallion stud
I lassoed his neck and freed him from the mud.
As I ride in his saddle beneath the stars that shine
I pray for forgiveness and some peace of mind.
War is a lesson we‘re eager to learn
When man has that fever to murder and burn.
Lord, please forgive me for what I have done
For all those I've silenced were some mother's son.
By Tom Zart
Tom Zart
|
|
User Rating: |
|
--
/10
(0 votes) |
|
|
|
Free
Poetry E-Book:
E-mail this poem to e friend