Rebecca Gibson Starnes Recalls Her Role in Witch-Hunting
Yes, I did. Called them witches,
had a vision
neighbor lady
hurt my baby.
I accused her daughter too.
Felt such a stew
of emotions—
and wild notions.
Now regret husband paid a fine.
The fault was mine,
slandered them,
my words mayhem.
James Hollis Tells his Life Story to His Grandchildren
I was born in Wandsworth Surrey,
took a journey
as a soldier
of old King George.
After the Siege at Ninety Six,
I up and slipped
away. My fife
and I made life
among the rebels. My story:
once a Tory,
heart enshrined in
Carolina.
Landon Waters Remembers How His Father Died
Uncle Phil raised the regiment;
my father went
and I did too.
We never knew
what would transpire. I saw Tory
blackguards shoot my
father dead mere
minutes after
he’d made a deal to free me from
them. I was plumb
afraid I’d die.
Instead, he did.
Jeremiah Allen Works to Warm His Home 1883
The ax was great-grandfather’s tool
for stacking fuel
to warm the farm—
house, wife and bairn.
Swinging that ax he sliced his shin.
The open skin
drew dirt, bred rot.
Fierce hope could not
freeze the fatal slide toward death.
He left bereft
his wife who wept,
their babe who slept.
Aunt Shady Mourns a Lost Generation
My own brothers went off to war.
Will died in far
off Elmira,
a prisoner.
Young Landon survived Point Lookout,
wed, had two stout
sons, was lucky
he got to see
home again. So many men lost.
I felt the cost.
Both my husbands—
old widowers.