Image for the poem Hillbilly Music

Hillbilly Music

It is dawn over these summer hills. The blue skirts of fog billow and lift and show their knees.   †  
The water below caps white tipped and nips blue grey with the heads of big fish. † † † †
Pink dawn shows her lovely face. † † † †
She smiles a covenant with centuries of great pride. † †  
†† †
Her arms hold a tale of the people, who were my Grandfathers, and my Motherís own. † † † †
They were my Uncles and the children that rose from them. † † † †
They had dirty faces and broken backs. They owned mules and hounds that knew the way home. † †  
†† †
And I am here. † † †  
And I am made breathless by the scene and reminder of it. † † †
I hear hillbilly music. †  

The instrumental keeps my people in mind and balances the world. † †  
Keeping trouble distant, but a part of me. † †  
Its efforts place compassion in my palm. † †  
Hands with gentleness like mine strum. † †  
They pat on knees hard times broken by laughter and happy families. †
The sweet mandolin plays amazing grace with harmony sung by women in rags. † † † †
And they brush my hair back softly from my face. And ask me to show it. † † † †
And grin that my fingers are not blistered. And that my arms are not leathered by sun. † † †
† †
And they hum a new song, about my journey, and about my son. † † † †
The melody becomes words of my own and I miss him like heartbreak, but hold it dear. † † † †
One day soon... I will show him this view. † † † †
From a bridge that spreads the morning before you, like a kind woman holding a photograph.
Written by Calamityofgin
Published | Edited 22nd May 2020
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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