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This poem was written in dedication to the many veterans of combat who return to peaceful places but bring the battleground home with them in the deepest recesses of their minds and spirits, to be relived in flashbacks as part of a post trauma syndrome. It was written after a vet I was working with came to a counseling session covered in road stains. He had crawled under his truck in the midst of a flashback triggered by a moist, evening wind through the palm trees. THE THUNDER IN THE HILLS by CURLY MUSGRAVE I THE YEAR WAS EIGHTEEN EIGHT SOMETHIN' THE CONFEDERACY GONE THE COUNTRY HAD TURNED WESTWARD AND HE'D COME ALONG WHERE RIDIN' NIGHT GUARD WAS A GOOD LIFE AND HE OFTEN FELT FULFILLED 'TIL THEM THUNDERHEADS COME A' ROLLIN' IN ACROSS WYOMIN'S HILLS THEN HIS OLD BONES GET TO SHAKIN' AN' HIS EYES FILL UP WITH TEARS AS THE LIGHTNIN' FLASHES 'ROUND HIM THEN THE THUNDER RIPS HIS EARS IN THE LIGHTNIN' HE SEES CANNON THEN FEELS THAT SABER IN HIS CHEST A SOUVENIR OF SHILOH BEFORE HE COME OUT WEST NOW HE RIDES HIS CIRCLE TIGHTER SO'S TO HOLD THE CATTLE IN ALMOST WISHIN' HE COULD SCREAM ALOUD ABOVE THE THUNDEROUS DIN BUT THAT'S ALL SHE'D TAKE FOR THIS DUMB HERD TO BREAK IN WILD STAMPEDE YET IF IT ENDS THE NIGHTMARES MIGHT BE JUST WHAT HE NEEDS BUT HE STUFFS THE INCLINATION AND TAKES ANOTHER NIP OF THE WHISKEY SHORTY GIVE HIM IT SEEMS TO HELP A BIT TO DULL THE PAIN OF SHILO AND THE POUNDIN' RAIN'S COLD CHILLS BUT HE'S A' WISHIN' HE COULD DRINK AWAY THAT THUNDER IN THE HILLS II 'BOUT A GENERATION LATER WILD WIND WHISTLES THROUGH THE FENCES AS A YOUNG COWPOKE JUST HOME FROM FRANCE TRIES TO HOLD ONTO HIS SENSES AS HE DRIVES HIS HORSE WITH BLOODIED SPUR A SCARRED FACE SCANS THE SKY TRYIN' TO OUTRUN THAT WHISTLIN' MORTAR THAT LEFT HIM BUT ONE EYE ONCE MORE THE THUNDER RUMBLES AND IT SOUNDS LIKE OL' VERDUN AS THE COOLIES BECOME TRENCHES AND THERE'S NOUGHT TO DO BUT RUN FOR THE CATTLE, LIKE FALLEN COMRADES, AGAPE WITH HOLLOW EYES WATCH THAT COWBOY RIDIN' LOCO 'NEATH THE WILD WYOMIN' SKIES AND AGAIN HE GALLOPS INTO TOWN, BUSTS THROUGH THE BARROOM DOOR BARELY NOTICIN' THE OTHER VETS, MOST JUST STARIN' AT THE FLOOR HEADS CLUTCHED IN TREMBLIN' FINGERS SOME WISHIN' THEY'D BEEN KILLED AND ALL JUST TRYIN' TO DRINK AWAY THAT THUNDER IN THE HILLS III AND THERE'S COWPOKES WENT TO NORMANDY, QUE SON AND SAIGON THAT DON'T SLEEP WHEN THERE'S THUNDER 'CAUSE OF NIGHTMARES THAT COME ON OH, THEY TEND THE HERD IN FOUR-BYS NOW BUT CURSE THE CLOUDS AND LUCK AND THAT THUNDER IN THE HILLS THAT GETS 'EM DIVIN' 'NEATH THAT TRUCK AND WHEN HE LEFT THAT MID-EAST STORM THOUGHT HE LEFT THE WAR BEHIND AND HOPED WITHIN WYOMIN'S HILLS HE'D AGAIN FIND PEACE OF MIND BUT WHEN THE THUNDER RUMBLES ROUND THE RIDGES ROCKS 'N RILLS HE HEARS A GHOST OF SHILOH 'MIDST THAT THUNDER IN THE HILLS BUT THE SPECTRAL WAIL DON'T SCARE HIM NONE WHEN THE SUN'S 'A RIDIN' HIGH AND SHININ' ON THE ROCKIES OR WHEN HE'S RIDIN' WITH HIS RYE AND SO THAT WADDIE WARRIOR WONDERS WITH ALL THIS BEAUTY TO BE FOUND WHY CAN'T WE LIVE TOGETHER THERE'S ENOUGH TO GO AROUND HE'D JUST AS SOON WE ACT LIKE KIN WITH ONLY TIME TO KILL 'STEAD OF FEELIN' MAN'S FEAR AND HATRED EACH TIME THERE'S THUNDER IN THE HILLS Copyright 1995 Curly Musgrave All Rights Reserved |
This poem has been added to The Promise Kept Veterans website.