Mountain Girl Poems

Mountain Mother
I learned to map the cardinal directions
With the Mountain as my East,
The same dirt that crowns her noble brow
Scatters at my feet. 

I grew up on the very air
That’s breathed out by her trees.
The building blocks I see in her
Are the same I see in me.

It’s not that I am particularly triangular
But more that I and she
Share the same heartbeat bound
To an evergreen canopy. 

As mountainous women, she and I
Each carry living weight
Of watching our follies selfishly 
Destroy what we create. 

As her rocks begin to tumble
Toward the flowers she has grown
I’m sure, sometimes, she wishes
She could ask it not to go.

This metaphor does not apply
To everything I wish.
She has never felt the pain
Of feeling smaller than she is.

I learned to map the cardinal directions
With the Mountain as my East
Since that day she has become 
A compass for my feet.

The Mountain, my Mother used to be
My ensign stretching high
These days she looks more like an arrow
Pointing to the sky.

Did you see the dirt on her hemline?
I’ve learned to disregard the mud
That gathers on my shoes. 
There’s so much more to gain from life
And so much more to lose
Than meets the eye the first time
One goes walking in the park 
And finds oneself a stranger,
Lost and stranded in the dark. 
I’ve learned to carry sharpened sticks
And trust my own two feet
To carry me through stormy days
And not accept defeat. 
I’ve learned that my own family
Stretches deeper than my blood, 
And to live my life unflinchingly
And disregard the mud. 

Apple-Snatched
I pluck my words like Granny Smith
Apples from a bursting source, 
Peel them of their predetermined nature, 
And cut them to the core, 
Praying that they will return the favor. 
That your pie and mine may have nothing in common 
But the tartness on your tongue.