Like a poem untitled,
Yet far worse,
For that poem has words—
A story is manifested,
Memories thenceforth to be had—
Never to be forgotten
Barring, unfortunately, its name.
Here, however,
Harrowing haunts hover,
Hallowed—yes—
But hollowed; astral whisps,
Here but forgotten,
Lives filled with imago dei—
Divine breath for siblinghood;
Instead, they’re dead,
With nothing to mark their value
But the word “Unknown”.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
Originally published on tristanrobertlange.com, September 1, 2025.
Originally published on tristanrobertlange.com, September 1, 2025.
Tittu
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: September 1st, 2025 08:42
- Comment from author about the poem: Written in Soldier’s National Cemetery, Gettysburg, PA, on a bench feet away from where President Abraham Lincoln delivered his Gettysburg Address.
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15, Bella Shepard
Offline)
Comments6
It seems that the United States, Brittan and France have tombs of the unknown soldier. I just watched the other day how Brittan's came about. We will all be forgotten one day and in this we are all brothers. Very nicely done Tristan
Thank you, Soren. Yes, the “Unknown” tombs carry so much weight...honor and grief entwined. What struck me at Gettysburg was how many stones simply bear that word. Each one a life with story and memory erased, yet still precious in God’s eyes, made in God's image. You’re right...we will all fade in time, but in that truth we’re bound together as siblings. Much appreciated, my friend. 🙏🪦🕊️💙
You are most welcome my friend
"Untitled" still means the noun was known, something, some quality about it... but "unknown," how much more hollow. Beautifully written
Exactly, my friend...“untitled” still gives you something to hold onto, but “unknown” strips even that away. Thank you so much for catching that contrast! 🙏🪦🕊️💙
So poweful, not so long ago in Ireland there was an entire cemetery found which has hundreds of newborns the place was a Convent ironically. This has so much power and makes the reader dive deep. 🌹
Thank you, Teddy. That is heartbreaking, and yet tragically fitting with what I was feeling at Gettysburg...so many lives erased, unnamed, unremembered. Cemeteries like that convent’s stand as haunting reminders of the cost when people are treated as disposable. I deeply appreciate you sharing that connection and I deeply appreciate you, dear poet and friend. 🙏🪦🕊️💙
It seems unconscionable that there are those who fought and died, without a trace left of who they were. You do justice to this sad memorial, in reflecting on the human toll. A very reflective and respectful poem.
Thank you, Bella. Yes...it feels almost unbearable that lives given in war could be left without name or trace. Writing this at Gettysburg, among those stones marked only “Unknown,” I wanted to honor the sacred weight of their humanity. Thank you for your time and thoughts, my friend. 🙏🪦🕊️💙
probably my greatest fear .. I think its one of the main reasons I write & always carry a notepad with me and my name scrawled all over the front .. 🖤🐦⬛🐈⬛👍
I feel that, Neville. The fear of being forgotten is deep...universal even. Writing is one of the ways we fight back, leaving our mark, naming ourselves before silence can erase us. I’m glad you carry that notepad. Your words matter and I love to read them! Win-win! 🙏🪦🕊️💙
A fine write. Really moving stuff. Thanks for sharing.
You are most welcome, Tom. Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts. Glad it delivered! 🙏🪦🕊️💙
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