Mourning Glory
As the sun sets
over the rolling, green hills
beyond Oise-Aisne,
the pensive visitors depart,
and the night envelops
the cemetery
in a shroud of silence.
It is in these quiet hours
of darkness,
beneath the vastness
of the same starlit sky
that shines back home,
the souls of the fallen gather,
their hushed whispers
echoing in the dark,
and floating
on the cool, night air.
In the stillness
of the Marne,
for which they fought
so valiantly,
lives laid down
in the name of freedom,
tales are shared –
of Mama’s blue ribbon, apple pie,
porch swing evenings
with a cherished love,
baseball under a summer sky,
and sacrifices made
in this foreign land,
as friendships
were forged
through the trials
of the Great War.
Kilmer,
as only he can,
recounts the Rouge Bouquet,
where nineteen
of The Fighting 69th,
instantly,
were laid to rest,
while others speak
of Chateau Thierry
and death
at Cravancon Farms
on the march to Soissons –
the mud, the smoke,
the fear, the screams,
the chaos, and yet,
the brotherhood,
a bond of valor.
A witness to the worst
of humanity,
a brave, but homesick, soldier
from the Fighting First,
just a youth
bearing the weight
of The Big Red One,
speaks with a southern,
Carolina drawl,
reminiscing for hours
about his beloved Blue Ridge,
where whispering pines
kiss the clouds.
Even the stars
seem to listen
to the beauty
of his heartfelt words.
Then,
in the soft embrace
of dawn,
as the horizon
begins to blush,
the sky awakens
with promise,
and sunlight spills
over the landscape,
casting a gentle glow
upon the graves
of heroes.
The early morning dew
clings to the grass
like tears,
each drop
a testament to courage.
Here, the fallen –
their fortitude
a moral compass
for generations
yet to come –
faced the horrors
of a world at war,
and now they slumber
in eternal grace,
within the very earth
they liberated.
It is in this
Mourning Glory,
that they dream of hope,
and yearn for a peace
that continues
to elude the living.
In honor of my great-uncle, Hilary McClure, who was KIA in France in 1918 during WWI.
©️ 2024 Julie Plott Counihan. All rights reserved
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