The hopes of the Confederacy rested on the shoulders of the generals
who chose to send their soldiers across the fields in “Pickett’s Charge” (In the Cat’s Eye, 2009). For this battle in
particular, the soldiers became the Confederacy, but each soldier carried a
more personal burden. He could see and smell and taste death waiting for him.
He started across that piece of ground because that’s what soldiers do, and he
died without knowing the larger meaning of his death.
In the wall of silence created by the terrible sounds of
battle, the generals finally heard the ghosts of these soldiers speak of the
nightmare they had encountered. And they had no answers to the questions that were
asked.
For the Confederacy, it became a fog-shrouded place where plantation
pillars turned to sand: the remnants carried away on scattered winds that
finally came to rest at Appomattox.
Glenn K. Currie
Pickett's Charge
There was a hollow
spot
In the center of my
chest.
Maybe where the ball
would hit.
My throat was filled
With the taste of
black powder.
Smoke was riding a
gentle breeze,
Floating over us like
angel dust.
We moved forward
because everyone did,
Shadows in the
sunshine
Waiting to fly away.
Soldiers fell in slow
motion,
Screams lost in the
wall of sound
That was our only
shelter.
The field was
forever,
A nightmare we could
never cross.
They kept firing,
Even when we turned
back.
Death whined in the
ears
Of those who had the
good fortune
To trip over the
dead.
I turned to sand
As I lay there.
In the evening
I blew away in the wind,
Coming to rest
In a grave in Vitginia.
No comments:
Post a Comment