Read Poetry: Walden’s Rebel south…?, by Jarl K. Jackson

Say the word, Henry, and it will be done –
It will be… 
So declares my soul – my spirit readily agrees 
(It smiles a wry smile)…
I am confused – happy…
Every one of those ten thousand things (?)
March on the other’s seat at last!
It must be June again – or July…
It must be autumn – November remember….

 

Declaration, proclamations and oaths (sworn and broken),
All in the fragrant (tragic-comic) silent night,
Remembrances…
‘Don’t tread on me’?

 

November?
Remember!
Recall: – Shenandoah – and ‘6’…

 

That color, catching the breeze there,
What is it?
A flag-
A stretch of cloth.
A bold and noble banner… mayhap – not?

 

With cross saltier-
Azure- – emblazoned – with pentangles -13…
Emboldened-
Upon a field argent… 

 

I would salute-
I wave-
I would doff my hat
(If I had one – and if it were permitted it… but then…)
I give thanks for what is to come – for what may yet… 

 

But… I will not.

 

I will thankful for the furled flag
Banner bold though it be, noble cause for it was – was not, – of 
many victories…
The greatest when it is put away at last.

____________________

“My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion,

He going with me must go well arm’d,

He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty,

Angry enemies, desertions.”

 _____________________

                                   -Walt Whitman, -‘The Song of the Open Road’