Driving down this narrow road
My old Kentucky ghosts-
Tobacco leaves shimmering in gold,
Fences in white surrounding fields of blue,
Barns both grand and forgotten,
Homes both new and vine-draped antebellum,
Monuments to our confederate and union dead-
Lost chivalry lamented with bronze,
Cemeteries with gray angels shaded by ancient trees
Deeply rooted in this dark and bloody ground
Where lie buried my ancestors.
I hear the voices of those
Seemed so recently departed.
And see a land,
Though distance may part,
I could never leave
Until they place my stone
And point me towards
The other Heaven.
K. Martin Beckner