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A Poem on the Battle of Franklin, TN, November 30, 1864

we’re almost home

by Daniel Mallock

cool springs’ and franklin’s office blocks
are lit up at night, waiting

some time ago, troops marched close
and came so close to home

down winstead hill - straight lines, flags and
banners, bayonets, hope.

rabbits rush ahead into blue
lines steeled, awed, waiting.

cool winter breeze moves flags, young men
dream of home, love, and life

night shadows move across franklin
so calm, grand, almost home

blue and gray in the night light fire
turn hot and cold and red

bullets, cannon, sword, screaming shouts
guns with lurid sharp flames

last and first prayers to God to
mother father somewhere

away far from franklin’s red fields
where hare are slow, alive.

at the works they die in straight lines
on the top adams’ horse

is a monument, at the base
of the works blood is deep

behind the works children scream and
from their cellar see hell

hear it, smell it, are forever
shattered, wounded, haunted.

the dead lay for days on franklin’s
winter fields almost home

they lie in straight lines in franklin
red sticks for adams and cleburne

in cool springs there is little time
for old wars and dead heroes

morning is coming to franklin
lights low, almost home now

carnton is still. wind moves the trees
like flags on franklin’s fields.