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Chattanooga National Cemetery Speaks
By Stormy Poet
I am the earth
Southern red clay
Land that has seen happiness and joy
I am dirt that has soaked up blood, sweat, and tears
Fertile soil that supported the Cherokee Nation
Worked with loving hands by Indigenous People
Until they were forcibly removed
A blatant resentment festers toward the white settlers
As I force their struggle, to feed and nurture communities
Later, owned by landowners, just as they owned slaves
My freedom stripped as trees were cut, and foreign grass planted
Civil discord arrives
Soldiers dressed in Union blue rags
Others march nearby in Confederate grey
Dismal like the frigid winter days
Men perish
Fields drenched with blood
The body count rises
Cold winds carry the breath of the battlefield
Cannon smoke mixed with the stench of death
Reeking of a hunt left to rot on a summer day
My soil seized on Christmas Day, 1863
Liberated in an odd sense, to just be land
Land to be impregnated with 12,800 dead
Now beneath the grassy knolls and along massive trees
Union soldiers are laid to rest in harsh, frozen, unforgiving conditions
Transferred from sites nearby
Makeshift hospitals
Crimson-soaked battlefields
Lonely mass graves
Battles fought–long, hard, a terrifying song and dance
Missionary Ridge and Lookout Mountain
Many fall to the uselessness of war
Their blood flowed downhill
Washed away by snow and rain
The carnage from Chickamauga and Stones River
Hauled here like shadows in darkness
The grim task given to the United States Colored Troops
Green to battle, not to the heavy labor bestowed upon them
Courageous free men, despised in the South, problematic in the North
Some men died months, years ago…
Remnants held together by tattered uniforms
Gathered by the Confederates not as men
But as debris after the havoc
Without humanity, dignity stolen
Bootless heaps stacked in shallow wild pig rummaged graves
Eyes wide open, left to witness their own demise
Relocated to be buried deep beneath my Tennessee soil
Frail, shattered fragments of men, 4,189 unknowns
Diminished to faceless numbers on small granite headstones
Memories to their loved ones
Others were murdered more recently
Names and bodies intact
Weary, hungry, impoverished colored troops press strength into the earth
Verses of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” rustle through the branches as they bruise my skin, digging deep into the rocky soil
Starvation grumbles as they dig the death chambers
Harsh conditions render them motionless memories
778 unthanked righteous colored souls are entangled in my soil
Scattered here and there in sections I & J.
I proudly embrace them without distinction beside the Union soldiers
While their white officers lie elsewhere
Segregated by rank in death as in life
Brave Southern Unionists sleep with me as well
Men from the Carolinas, Georgia, Alabama, and Tennessee
Men who volunteered to cross the Mason-Dixon Line
Traitors to their states for standing up for the abolition of slavery
The Union General George H. Thomas, weary of this war and casualties
“Mix’em up, Mix’em up,” he said
“I’m tired of States Rights,” he said
So here they lie, in quiet, symbolic circular patterns
Union, United States Colored Troops, and Union Loyalists
Black and White, Soldier and Officer
Neighbors in death, strangers in life, soldiers all the same
Beneath my soil, Democracy stands; Death, the equalizer
A winding woody root of a long-ago oak with tentacles buried deep
Cradles the graves of many with its strong, unyielding grasp
An anchor that bonds them together in death beneath my soil
“Taps” and a 21-gun salute signal another fallen soul
My once fertile soil weeps as the bodies keep coming
Over 70,000 now rest here
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; they are no more
Meet the Poet – Stormy Poet
Kelly “Stormy” Williams is a passionate poet, visual artist, and community advocate based in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Inspired by her mother, she began writing poetry at 13 and has since used her art to connect, heal, and inspire.
An active member of poetry groups All Voices Heard and Rhyme N Chatt, Kelly thrives as an emcee and performer, using poetry to bridge social, economic, and racial divides. She believes deeply in the power of art to unite communities and spark transformation.
Beyond poetry, Kelly supports local nonprofits such as Hart Gallery, Rhyme N Chatt, Love’s Arm, Launch Pad, and Artists in Transition. Her creativity also extends into acrylic painting and photography, and she often shares her work at local events and festivals.
A passionate traveler, Kelly believes that immersing oneself in new cultures—through food, art, and human connection—is one of the most powerful ways to break down barriers of prejudice and racism. Her international travels continue to shape her art and perspective.
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