Toad's "In Tandem" with Margaret & Corey

Joseph Sherrick Farm, outside Sharpsburg, MD.  Site of the Antietam Civil War Battle

Tattered Glory

Dearest,

Upon whitewashed porch I pause, 

unwilling to flee, unable to stay,

gaze upon our fields of wheat, flax and corn;

the only truth I understand...

Floorboards vibrate with distant drums;

death's march surely heading our way.

Hold your letter loosely, wishing 

instead I held your hand.

Your namesake remains, he is my rock,

but dear, our Johnny’s run off 

wearing treacherous Union blue!

My heart bleeds, shattered in two.

My Love, 

           The time is ripe for justice and truth

The sound of drums carries my heart and my want

If God desires me to be beholden to righteousness

Then I raise my arms in defense of my land, my ancestors

Glory be to God

  My son, I have left you with the burden of a lifetime

Yet you accept even when the temptation of battle sings

  I will owe you my love and my land as compensation

  For honoring our home and our roots as cause.... dear boy

          Glory be to God

  My precious girl, your eyes carry me forward and up

To guard a way of life given freely by the hand of fate

Too young to understand these words or my pursuit

But one day you will read these words and rejoice in our way

Dearest,

A tattered letter, three months old, I caress,

your hand still bold; it gives me hope.

My heart cries out for news of our sweet boy!

Weary, weary, I sit.  Imagine 

beneath my feet, cellar shelves stocked 

with your favorite: butter; apple, peach 

and plum, crocks of preserves, sugar, 

flour, a winter’s worth of huckleberry stew.

But it’s gone!  We evacuated hastily, in terror

I grabbed the children, your pocket watch!  

Naught remains, but the clothes upon our backs.

“Be not of the World”  'taint so hard no more.

My Love, 

           I have lost a score of comrades, much sorrow

I can only believe that God has a place for them

  At the head of his table, a great feast in truth’s honor

My eyes have witnessed the blood of the battle... they are weary

Keep the faith my friends, my loves

My son, word of your steadfast authority has reached my ears

Keep your eyes on strangers my boy and trust no one

If death comes knocking swallow the key and be sure

That I am doing my best to stem the tide

Keep the faith my friends, my loves

  My precious girl, growing undeterred on the door step of hell

I barely had the chance to calm your cries, a man’s real duty

But if God wills, I will return and coddle you ten fold

And patch the cuts and bruises of war and you will grow

Dearest,

Our precious Mary greets rows of rag tag boys 

that pass our way.  One confessed “I may 

now find peace as Heaven’s surely as fine

as your blue eyes”.  He reminded me of you.

Oh sweetest husband, come back, matters not 

if you aren’t whole.  Just forever hold me.

I’m hungry, cold, lonely...  Glories price to steep to bear;

Sweet Jesus!  Our Johnny’s dead!  Buried who knows where.

I’m too drained to cry, too tired to comfort little Jacob,

Will, baby Lisbeth.  Darling, desert this God forsaken cause!

Together we can rally; rebuild this house, our life;

but what kind of crops will grow, fertilized with blood soaked misery?

My Love, 

            My faith in God’s plans is tested daily, I question

My desire to return whole has passed with the spirits

One hundred thousand men before me, I fear its fate

Your letters and soft skin mask mud, blood and hunger

Goodbye dear ones, keep the faith

My son, the time has come to wrap neat the past

Take only what is dear and move on with protective hands

Place them on the heads of the women and cry

For the tides have turned and God’s will favors others thinking

Goodbye dear ones, keep the faith

My precious girl, I hope you have your mother’s eyes

And keen sense of what makes this world turn... beautifully

Remember me as the ghost of perseverance and love

Of an idea whose time has run its ill conceived course

by Margaret Bednar (Art Happens 365) and Corey Rowley (Herotomost)

How fun was this!?  Corey Rowley, you made this collaboration process a pure joy, and not because you agreed 100% with what I wanted to do (although that does make things go quite smoothly when working with me) but because of your talent, encouragement, and eagerness.

Thank you, Kerry, for such a fun experience and such a wonderfully tended garden, and we hope everyone enjoys this collaboration written in celebration of the Imaginary Garden with Real Toad's one year anniversary.