Appalachian Magic

Tough as a coal-camp boot    
she’s no longer here  
in the day or in the dark    
from grandmother to ghost    
to gone    
    
I write little pieces of her life    
throw them about    
bones from a witch's bag    
trying to make sense    
or peace    
   
'til a moment ago    
no words would come    
now they tumble downhill    
heavy and hard    
as freshly mined coal