History does not sleep

Let’s not talk about Sherman. The brief
whiff of fire you’ve read coasting along
treetops. Brevity is an illusion.

What has happened follows
us everywhere, but
we don’t have to let it in
to dine with us and turn

our wine. The plantations
of Madison still stand, yes. And are still
inhabited after all these years. Only,
their lawns are green now

and the dust of bygone
railroads has settled into graves and
junkyards. And look, it comes

down last on that mountain of trash
you see cresting
behind what used to be
a wall of pines. Even the Romans

knew, two thousand years ago,
that there was no wall tall enough
to keep out the ghost

of what’s done. The vultures
can fly higher, and they don’t stop
circling until they hone in on what
they came to earn

Author's Note

2019

Reviews

[R.E. Ray]

Having lived in the Deep South for more than 15 years, I understand the legacy that burdens the people and the culture. Despite what succeeding generations have accomplished, the progress made in civil rights, education and the economy, "Sherman" still rides through the minds of many, scorching what others have built since that awful time. Yet, some might argue what rose from the ashes it better than what existed before Sherman arrived. History does not sleep... the ideal title for this moving poem. One of my favorites so far, Eilis.

[Eilis]

Thanks, RE, your response is great. I’ve lived in the south all my life and I still get surprised by the attitudes here. Some would love to see the clock turned back. It’s a difficult thing.

As ever, I appreciate your thoughtful, intelligent reading. I’m glad my intent came through as well as it seemed to for you. Thanks again.

[Gerald Parker]

I haven't read any more of your poems lately. It's almost as though I'm better off avoiding them. Their effect is so powerful, mind-bending, to use that well worn phrase. But I'm glad to have come back. Your title is spot on - history does indeed live on: over here the devastation caused by (the still beloved by some) Mrs Thatcher still blights us. Your poem brings home to me the rancor that still must be smouldering in the deep South.

[Eilis]

Hi, Gerald. Thanks so much. I’m glad you could relate to the poem in some way. I know a little about Thatcher and can definitely understand the comparison.

I appreciate all you had to say. Thanks for reading.

[Beccy]

I only know of the American South, what I have read. But those ghosts you talk of are no strangers to so many part of the world. It has always been the case that old habits and prejudices die hard; which leaves me wondering whether the vultures will be feasting on the carcass of our brief reign on this lovely place; or if our species will learn the lessons of history in time to turn the tide.

Beccy.

[Eilis]

I fear it will be the feast, Beccy. But, maybe we can surprise ourselves and make something better out of what we've got.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate you sharing your insights on this one.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is an amazing look at the South...the restoration, the changes, and yet that core South that has remnants and history remaining...
and some of those vultures might just be thousands of years old themselves.
Ghosts go right through walls....a hauntingly good poem here, Eilis.
j.

[Eilis]

Hi, Jacob. Yep, the ghosts know how to get through. I’m glad the spirit of the poem came through for you. The south is a strange place to live, but it’s all I’ve ever known.

Thanks for coming by and reading. Always appreciate your visits.