Folk


I come from mountain Folks

Hillbilly trash you might say

Who bore winters colder than your stare

Built lives on mountain sides

In cracks and crevices worked the land

Bringing life from stone

Whose bodies may have broken

But their spirits never died

So they got up again

And again

Three times grandma’s back broke

And thrice up she got and walked

Right out the door

Back to the mountain

Her mountain,

Where she sleeps next to her children

In Mother Mary’s Grotto

Until Judgment Day or man forgets

I am her blood

And she is mine

I will not break

Least not for long.

And when my time has come,

There on the mountain I will sleep

Until judgment day or man forgets

*Folks is the last name of my Great-grandmother.

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