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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 – minerals, blood, sweat, and tears
Fertile soil that supported the Cherokee Nation
Until they were forcibly removed
A blatant resentment festers toward the white settlers
As I force their struggle, to feed and nurture communities
Civil discord arrives
Soldiers dressed in Union blue rags
Others march nearby in Confederate grey
Dismal like the frigid winter days
Nearby men perish
Life and death play like jealous siblings
No one keeps count of the mayhem
Just bodies to enrich the earth
My soil seized on Christmas Day, 1863
Liberated and violated in the same breath
Soon to be impregnated with 12,800 dead
My permission or preference, obsolete
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
Beneath the grassy knolls and along massive trees
Union soldiers are laid to rest in harsh, frozen, unforgiving conditions
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 lonely mass 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
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
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
Verses of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” rustle through the branches
Starvation grumbles as they dig the death chambers
Harsh conditions render them motionless memories
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
A winding woody root of a long-ago oak with tentacles buried deep
Cradles the graves of many with its strong, unyielding grasp
Neighbors in death, strangers in life, soldiers all the same
Beneath my soil, Democracy stands; Death, the equalizer
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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