The assignment was to choose a subject from Michael David Murphy’s “Unphotographable.” I selected:

“This is a picture I did not take of a six-foot long tree limb as thick as an arm, crashing to the ground and missing my head by inches while I stood beside one of those official historical signs you see dotting former battlefields of the South, this one labeled “CONFEDERATE INTRENCHMENTS.”

For phonar #3, the visuals are photos I did take in the Appalachian foothills of Alabama of Confederate soldier graves in the stillness of the forest. Tree limbs crash down all the time. In the forest it’s possible to move beyond the “official historical signs” and find where real people lived and loved and fought for what seemed right, and went to dust.

Stanzas from “Lorena,” a song popular amongst soldiers in the Civil War – both North and South – sheds light on lives and loves lost when duty calls.

<p>Leigh Phonar #3 Take 3 from Leigh Watson Healy on Vimeo.</p>

<br />This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Oh, the years creep slowly by, Lorena,

The snow is on the ground again.

The sun’s low down the sky, Lorena,

The frost gleams where the flow’rs have been.

But the heart beats on as warmly now,

As when the summer days were nigh.

Oh, the sun can never dip so low

A-down affection’s cloudless sky.

A hundred months have passed, Lorena,

Since last I held that hand in mine,

And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena,

Though mine beat faster far than thine.

A hundred months, ’twas flowery May,

When up the hilly slope we climbed,

To watch the dying of the day,

And hear the distant church bells chime.

…

Yes, these were words of thine, Lorena,

They burn within my memory yet;

They touched some tender chords, Lorena,

Which thrill and tremble with regret.

‘Twas not thy woman’s heart that spoke;

Thy heart was always true to me:

A duty, stern and pressing, broke

The tie which linked my soul with thee.

It matters little now, Lorena,

The past is in the eternal past

Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena,

Life’s tide is ebbing out so fast.

There is a Future! O, thank God!

Of life this is so small a part!

‘Tis dust to dust beneath the sod;

But there, up there, ’tis heart to heart.

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