By Mike Hollingsworth
As I pondered the numerous stones,
Staring at the inscribed word, “unknown,”
When abruptly, at a distance, I saw a phantasm,
Soldiers humming the Confederate anthem.
A dozen saw I at first gander,
Unknown foot soldiers following their banner,
Flickering through the old gravestones,
Placid that underground were their revered bones.
Anxiously I approached the band of men,
Their names I wanted for my pen,
But as I queried, “Your names might be?”
I only heard the drone of “Dixie”.
Could hardly believe that they had appeared,
I felt stressed but was unfeared,
Suddenly a sergeant emerged with a plea,
“Be not troubled, son,” he said to me.
“Yea, do not be vexed, just let it be,
For we died while facing the enemy.
Love ones have joined us across that creek,
Our whereabouts they no further seek”.
“We thank you son for all you have taught,
Vindicating the cause for which we fought.
The 'unknown' label on our graves,
Bothers us none for we're with the braves.”
Quickly they came now gently fading away,
Their spirit no more could I see this day.
Courageous ancestors from long ago,
Vanished once more in a Southern glow.