Hills And Battles Poem by Christian Allen

Resting in fields, in the shoes you dirtied in high school
With the sweat caked on your brow, red clay mixed and dried
You smoke a cigarette where your fathers fell and you walk
These trees are the hosts of our stages and forums that we've acted in
The smoke and tustle of free men against free men, seering with ambition and retribution comes from the splinters in the trunk

Captain, my father for a year
I long to see my child,
In these Georgia pines I am felled by the sweat smell
While I lay amidst the dying

To watch the great landscapes changed a formed for him
It was raw and we've chewed it, lean no more and tough
Chewing, we chew at the earth
Cheering, we must have done wrong, Yes I know we've done wrong
How he longs to see his child