Faye Sizemore


Awakening with a start
Sweating hands.
And wildly beating heart
Noises in the night
Peering out my window
I beheld a sight…
Up the gravel road where it winds.
Just before it disappears in the pines
A rag tag line of soldiers
Was marching through the night
Tattered suits of grey and blue
Were intertwined winding
Through the evening dew
The ghostly moon overhead
Showed the living keeping
Step with the dead…
Walking with makeshift crutches
Bandages encircling head
Some walking, some riding
Not one in a hurry.
Their time they were biding
Smelling of sweat and blood
And smoke from ancient campfires.
Muted I hear a song
Helping each other
Tenderly along
Through the window wafted
The sound of many voices singing
I thought I heard
“Dixie’s” mournful sound.
Then “Battle hymn Of the Republic” ringing
Slowly they came.
Hundreds and thousands
Too many to name
Marching slowly past
And I knew.
Brothers had found
Brothers at last.