Corporal Burwell

You were
Some mother’s boy
Some lover’s man.

It’s lost
How tall you stood
Even the color of your eyes
Is no longer known.

All that is known
Is you died
September 20, 1863
Near a creek
Called Chickamauga
In far-away Tennessee
One among thousands
That gave up the ghost
That dreadful Sunday.

You perished
In a sheet of flame
And a buzz saw of musketry
As much a victim of incompetent leadership
As enemy action.
But that's just my opinion, Corporal.

You must have been well loved
To have been wrapped
In a sheet
And shipped to your home
Hundreds of miles north.

Most were buried where they fell.
But not you
Corporal Burwell.

How your poor mother wept
Your lost lover sobbed
And your town clicked their tongues
Saying
Isn’t it a shame about the Burwell boy?

Now you lay beneath
The slab your father set
Upon which your mother cried
Embraced by your broken lover
Before which I stand
Remembering a soldier
I never knew.

I come to see you
Once a year
To stand at your feet
Wondering about you.
If the truth can’t be known
It’s my duty
To make it up.
You deserve that much.
And I’ve done a fine job, I think.

You were young
Proud and noble.
But not too proud
Nor too noble.
You were enthusiastic and brave.
But not too enthusiastic
Nor too brave.
You did what you came to do.
But you did not want to die.
You wanted to kiss your mama
Marry your girlfriend
Have babies
And watch them grow
To honorable adulthood
Around you.
And you wanted grandbabies
on your knee.

You wanted to
Learn piano
Find a trade
Make love
Fish with a buddy
Tell tall tales
Watch the sunset
Worship at your church
See a bit of the world
You wanted this and more.

But you early stopped a bullet.

Now I stand before you
Corporal Burwell
Once again
And place another small flag
Before your stone.
You’d be surprised
At the number of stars
In its blue field.

My beard has gone white
Since I began
Visiting you.
As white as the harvest
Through which you marched
The morning you died.
As white as muzzle flame.
As white as the sheet
In which they bound your body.
As white as the shoulders
Of the lass you would never marry.
As white as your bloodless body
And white as your bones.

Thank you, Corporal Burwell
Although that seems a small thing to offer
Before such a sacrifice.
Sleep on, Corporal.
Rest.

If my own death
Prevents my return
I am confident another will remember.
That's the way it is
In the land for which you died.