by M. N. Mattingly 02 Aug 2017
I stand upon, Little Round Top
Imagining the battle that seemed never to stop.
I look around me seeing the men
Who we will never speak to again.
I look about and see Cemetery Ridge
Seeing the men who had endless courage.
I look down and see Devils Den
And see the dead men that were chosen
To fight a battle for many others,
Some to fight against their brothers,
To say goodbye on Cemetery Hill
And watch you’re once friends kill.
I see the bloodstained grass of Peach Orchard
What a name for a place where so many were tortured
I cry in thinking of the mothers
And of those poor soldier's lovers.
How they must have wept
Worrying for their dear one’s as they slept.
All the deaths on either side,
All the men that have died
For the sake of fellow man
For when that battle just began,
They did not know what was waiting,
General Lee just debating.
Though we wish it never happened,
There’s no denying faces blackened
We must face the awful truth
That this happened, there is proof.
I stand upon little round top
Imaging the battle that seemed never to stop
I look around and see that...
This was the battle at Gettysburg.