The ghosts lie prostrate in the land
While I cross where berms were planned
As monuments to great last stands
And retreats tinged with shame.
Cannons cross at the Dead Angle,
Where North and South were once entangled
And Southern hope was slowly strangled.
Then . . . Continue Reading
Then one night George had been awakened by singing. He strained to look at the pallets on the cold cave floor, but the sick soldiers slept on, unaware of the music. It didn’t come from any of them. Though his body ached, George rose from his bed to move toward . . . Continue Reading
I’ve seen the painting above, The Thankful Poor, for most of my life in various places and circles. Lately, I was curious to find the artist of such a stirring, spiritual piece, so, I googled it. The artist is Appalachia’s own Henry Ossawa Tanner, born in Allegheny County, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania,Continue Reading