"Veteran's Day and Andersonville"

“Veteran’s Day”

cji

11/11/18

We served without guile

innocent some more others

teenagers to older aged

boys, girls, women, men

soldiers, sailors, marines

coast guard and air force

different services but one

merchant seamen as well

defend freedom for all

the spoiled politicians

hippies, druggies, snowflakes

crooks, criminals, illegals

we fought for all of them

good, wicked, innocent

worldly amid graft/pelf

we’re called a nation

yet are we on this day

Veteran’s Day today

or have we’ve divided

the dnc seeking all power

socialism instead of freedom

yet we served for all

freedom/Constitution

we’re Veterans always!

“POW’s Andersonville and the Civil War”

“It was a tear . . .”

cji

11/11/18

fully developed

that would

not now

or again

caress my

wife of child’s

cheek or person

for this teardrop

froze in place

never to fall

for freedoms price

was my cost

in this hell forgotten

place,

called

by name

by name

forgotten as my tear . . .!”

“Over by . . .

cji

11/11/18

the side

where shadows

fell did we seek

to cover ourselves

from his eyes

for just one moment

to be free from his sight

to be free one moment

then to return

to his eyes

rejuvenated

given the strength

to endure

till one more time

to seek the shadows

free from our guards

the enemies eyes . . .!”

“We ran away . . .

cji

11/11/18

not in an act of cowardice

but in one of hope

for freedom was found

beyond the physical being

so we ran,

we crawled,

we groveled,

into the deep shadows

the inner recesses

of our minds

of our beings

to sit once again

on mothers lap,

to the sunshine of youth,

we ran away

from these

shackles and chains . . .!”

“He wasn’t much . . .

cji

11/11/18

maybe 18, I don’t know

we just met up

stayed together

sometimes we’d talk

he never spoke of home

so I told him of mine

he’d been around

from the places he spoke of

places I’d never seen

no he wasn’t much

but we buried him today

he’d had a wound

we didn’t know

I put his name

on a scrap

tied to his toe,

he wasn’t much

just my friend . . .!”

“You know . . .

cji

11/11/18

I don’t know

what is that makes war

or why men can’t agree

or why there is so much horror.

I don’t know why

we can’t get along.

I was a farmer

Johnny Reb

told me he was a farmer

so why are we killing

each other?

It wasn’t funny

but it was

the two of us sitting their

he with his gun

me with mine

just waiting

to see who came by.

His people came first

so I’m in prison

and last I heard

he was up near

Fredericksburg.

He writes when he can

not very well

says he doesn’t know

who is better off

him or me.

Well I sure wish

I was him

and him me

Fredericksburg

is a whole lot

closer to home!”

“But I’ve learned …

cji

11/11/18

that war is hell

and prison is

the lowest level

and the horror

of cannons

and bullets

is nothing

to the horror

of the screams

of your brothers

and that there

is nothing you can do

is nothing you can do

is nothing you can

is nothing you

is nothing

is . . .!”

“Little flower”

cji

11/11/18

How in the world

did you get in here

what did you do so wrong

as to be condemned with us?

Oh I know you can’t hear me

or even know I’m here

but you won’t last long

as a little flower here.

But since you’re here

I’ll care for you just in case

the one who brought you here

will take some time to care for me!

“Wandering . . .

cji

11/11/18

my mind seeks escape

were none is found

this isn’t what I’d thought

when first the call came

excitement, adventure

going after the Yanks

going to go

and come right back

be a hero

have the locals

flock around

to hear my stories

of war and killing

and winning

and whatever

other lies could be told!”

“But now my mind …

cji

11/11/18

only wants to escape

from this hell

called Elmira

called Delaware

called infamy

forgotten by all.

Wandering

my mind remembers

only childhood dreams

fishing in the creek

hunting coon’s at night

the foolishness

of knights

of heroes

on big white horses . . .!”

“Please remember me . . .

cji

11/11/18

This is how I start my prayers

each night and each morning

for where I’m now

is surely not a place

where God would dwell.

Surely this place is hidden

far from anyone’s eyes

far from where humans live

and I’m afraid

I’ll be forgotten and lost.

Please remember me . . .

I’m your son

you sent me here

to grow and learn

to come home again.

Remember how we laughed

and played when I was young

surely I had more time

to get to know you better

and for you to know me.

So please Lord

remember me

in this forsaken place

called Andersonville

where you would never dwell. . .!”

Copyright © 2018 – cji