Civil Liberties

In the upstairs hall you can hear footsteps going back and forth. There has always been the foot

traffic in and out of the house; repeating over and over. No one is stopping, bringing the

wounded and taking bodies out. Sheets of crimson blanket every portion of my home. They

forced their way into my home, killed my husband and ordering me to help the dying. My home

and my life destroyed by the blue blooded Yankees. More boys died by my hand then their

guns. No one can tell me what to do, for I am not a slave.

No I will not stand by and let the Yankee destroy my world. To watch them kill a white man and

spare the Negro then call it justice. This is no justice; this is suicide of a nation, of a people.

Boys going to war for a cause that they don’t understand; to kill a nation that allows us to live in

peace. The promise of freedom was killed with the first shot.

The constant drip of blood and orders pulls at my sanity yet brings the satisfaction of revenge.

More wounded are brought in each pleading for their mothers and their fathers. Each man I

touched was gifted with peace with a kiss from death. All that threaten me will be kissed by

death.

All I can do now is stand and watch my world repeat… over and over… as the living live on.

Forgetting them… forgetting me. Yet within these walls I live on, savoring their screams.

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