The battle was a tangled mess,
hopeless, no victor from the start.
The first day went from chills to heat,
lifeless, formless, foul Wilderness
chosen, egos of enemies
allowing neither to detach,
allowing neither final touch.
So war waged painful, wretched, free
Till second day, a flush of rage,
man crying for water, water,
dying, dysentery, slaughter
till both foes rested night, turned page,
then, next day, the enemy left
as one commander of courage
saw no cause for further pillage
till next bleak battle, and the next.
Eric M. Vogt, Copyright 2013