My Time Of Dying

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The fear of dying during the American Civil War (1861 - 1865).

Submitted: January 21, 2017

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Submitted: January 21, 2017

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Above our heads the charnel Tanager cried out,

We stood our ground, past the eleventh hour rout.

 

Swords unsheathed and clashed, rifles were readied,

The bodies dropped into infinite sleep.

To this endless war I shall not concede,

But knowing that our cold hearts would soon weep.

 

Once a Johnny Rebel pulled the trigger,

Blood spewed, staining my uniform deep red.

My time was nigh, I uttered a prayer,

As I could feel the numbness spread.

 

Everything was white but the burning stayed,

It was dull - dull but seemed perpetual;

While outside, continued the fusillade,

By now seemingly habitual.

 

I pictured my wife awaiting me,

Upon her slender thighs there sat our son.

They looked at a photograph with pity,

While in their hands remained my medallion.

 

The Robin visited me at the break of day,

As the curtains fell and my life force ebbed away.

 

I struggled to awake from my nightmare,

My paralyzed eyes refusing to cope.

I felt relief feeling my heart’s despair,

Although becoming doubtful of my hope.

 

Comrades prepared for a coming battle,

Superiors shouted commands around.

All are fearful and none seem to settle,

As we all waited on the battleground.

 

Above our heads the charnel Tanager cried out,

We stood our ground, past the eleventh hour rout.


© Copyright 2017 Lacey Klair. All rights reserved.

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