Shiloh

//

Brother against brother fought

upon that Hardin County lot.

Along the River Tennessee,

men stood their ground, though some did flee.

One hundred thousand, split in two,

the cost of war, they thought they knew,

but not until those April days,

the midnight blues and woolen grays.

Slash, as the bullet goes,

the men walk down a field of rows;

bodies lying here and there,

served for what they thought was fair.

What is fairness, those walking ask,

when 24,000 lives have passed?

———

This morning, I told my youngest (who is 7) what the prompt was and asked what historical event he thought I should write about. He said “the civil war,” and then unprompted, began to say the lines I’ve italicized. Honoring his idea and contribution, I built my poem around that.