Illinois Lincoln
first three sides near Hodgenville
my old Kentucky
c l couch
12 February, Lincoln’s birthday
photo by Ryan Stone on Unsplash
view of welcome from the Lincoln Memorial
(x = space)
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Chalk Calculations on the Head of a Shovel
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Sunday
Is Lincoln’s birthday
I like this guy
Though I probably
Don’t know why
And don’t know enough
Why maybe
I should not
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What I know
Is that he was born
In Kentucky
(me, too)
And he grew tall
(not me)
And had a sense of humor
(played pranks)
And could split rails
And was a failure
At nearly anything he tried
Except
The holding of one office
To which he was elected,
The one and he
That we remember
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Republicans
Were upstarts then
And maybe have their best
In their first
‘Cause he was pretty good
Flawed
Perhaps greatly,
Haunted
By the losses
In his family
And in the losses in
The nation’s family
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He was a kind of
Savior to that nation
In a conflict
That many folk
Did not take too seriously
Taking picnics
Borne in carriages
To watch the battle like
Watching
A tournament
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And then the bullets
And the missiles
Spoke to say
There is no recreation
And four years later
(every war is Pyrrhic)
Everyone who breathed
Said for themselves
And for everyone
No longer drawing breath
This is enough
Let’s have an ending
To the ruinous process
We drew upon ourselves
For growing up
A country
Four years
As an age
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He freed the slaves
Many people freed the slaves
Among them slaves
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The many battles,
Wounds and deaths
Disease
Formulative scars later
And the war
Was over
Save the carpetbagging
And the agonizing irony
Of Reconstruction
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But first
By the assassination’s bullet
He was removed
From everything we know
And might improve
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Johnson tried
But was impeached
Though not convicted
And was left
To practice
What we recall as an ineffectual
Administration
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The remains
Of Abraham
Were taken from the capitol
To Springfield
For burial
While we’ve had nearly
Eight-score years
To count his steps
And missteps
But he was carried
And placed over stone
And under earth
For silence
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And shall we say he’s great?
Greatness is
On the inside
Of a life
And then through what is done
And if we can reason there
We may only with
Minimal compunction
Call him great
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Once we have decided,
We should relate the news
To the President
Maybe
Before his tomb
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C L Couch
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Photo by Unseen Histories on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Split Life
(12 February)
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Today is the birthday
Of Abraham Lincoln
Peer Kentuckian
Who finished growing up
Somewhere else
First Republican
And best
Sixteenth President
And we will argue
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Tall, wearing a beard because
Someone said it would
Look good
Splitter of rails
And he had other talents
Self-taught
Until he got to schools
Lawyer, legislator
Failed entrepreneur
Failed at many jobs
Not a success story
Until the one great thing
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Freer of slaves, though hardly alone
In that
Slavery should never
Have happened;
We’ve been paying for it ever since
Until together
We might march on
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Moderator of the Civil War
What a wicked way
To spend one’s fifties
Railed (another way)
Until an overwhelming victory
Came to pass
And then
To count the dead
And give them stones
Play “Dixie” on the White House lawn
Killed a few days later
(not for that)
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His remains buried back in
Springfield, Illinois
His body for the nation
His spirit unto judgment
Thence we hope
To paradise
And so it could be
For all
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C L Couch
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split-rail fence at Gettysburg
photograph by Jesse Lee Tucker – own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=51840069
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