George M. Noblitt

THE CARNAGE

 

I was there when it first began

The bloody battle at Bull Run

Spectators watched in a festive mood

The "Bastards' didn't care who won

 

A battle calls for a toll in flesh

The bill we always pay

Then forget the lesson that's been taught

Leave the men where they lay

 

I recall it was at Wilson's Creek

When I first noticed the stranger

I knew he was the invited guest

He had no fear of danger

 

He moved across the field of battle

As if to pick and choose

Then slowly reaches out his hand

Like a collector of past dues

 

I thought I saw him at Pea Ridge

Among the wounded men

Then like a phantom he steals away

Knowing he'll return again

 

Battle after battle he was always near

His cold breath at my back

At a violent battle fought hand to hand

He led the grim attack

 

After the carnage of Gettysburg

As the noise and powder smoke clears

I caught a glimpse of the strangers face

One of sadness and of tears

 

Could this stanger be flesh and bone

With a soul and heart that beats

Does he have a memory filled with conscience

This visitor of unholy feats

 

Could it be he's been misunderstood

He's never worn blue or gray

But he's the clear victor of every siege

The hunter of countless prey

 

Fallen by a musket ball in flight

These questions clear like a haze

I stared into his soft peaceful eyes

Thank 'God' for death's loving gaze