Hills

Hills in my Voice 

 

Half-hidden hills in summer haze
Call my name and question me. . .

“Where have you been?”
“Why have you stayed away so long?”

Those hills are strangers to me.
I am not from there but rather here.
They seem to know me much better than I know them
I’ve only ridden over Big Hill a few times in a car.
Why, then, do they call my name?

Why is the sight of those green trees reaching
Toward the sky as familiar as the fingers
On my own hand? – Reaching.
For what I can’t name.

“Mountain folk are queer,” Mamaw always said,
But I couldn’t say for sure. They live
Tucked back in deep hollows,
Silent reflections of the hills around them.
They are as much a part of that place
As limestone and black oak.
I do not know them but I understand them.
My spirit hears the same whisper as theirs,
On the breath of a breeze, it beckons me home.

Some say God is in the trees.
Someday--
if I’m not here where I ought to be . . .

You might find me in the mountains.

 

 

Author's Note

Without the guidance of two very special writers at the cafe this poem would have never come to be. My sincere thanks to Mike and Tamara who both offered suggestions and helped me along with this one.

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I'm just a hillbilly myself like Thomas Wolfe. He said, "You can't go home again." But I'm bewildered as to why anyone would want to leave. I carry my Appalachians in my heart. I carried them through the Ozarks in Arkansas and across the Rockies in Colorado. The oldest mountains in the world are more than just hills and valleys to me. They're in my blood and deep in my bones. And I wouldn't have it any other way. So, while Wolfe may have been removed from the commonality of his upbringing; the more I have been removed, the more I cling to home. Ricky Skaggs wrote a song called, Don't Get Above Your Raisin' where he tells a girl not to "high hat" him because he remembers what she used to be. That relates directly to what Wolfe said about not being able to go home again. Sure you can go home again. But don't go home and try to flaunt your education at the people you were brought up with. It's not being dishonest to grow beyond the hills and still maintain connection with your roots. I talk to mountain folks like mountain folks talk. It's not "fake" because I'm from there. But I can communicate on other levels with various people from various walks of life without intimidating them or feeling intimidated by them. That is what Rudyard Kipling meant in his poem, "If" when he wrote,
"If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;"

According to Kipling's observation that's what makes a "man" but I'd prefer to think of it as what makes us well rounded individuals capable of communicating our thoughts at various levels. That's certainly as important as being able to speak a foreign language; especially if it is the language of "home". I'm sorry if my review seems rather personal but the piece evoked thoughts and feelings in me that were very personal. I hope I can maintain the flavor of the mountains, always, in my voice.

[Emily B]

My husband feels more at home in those flat lands.

[Zane Mathias]

Wow Great Write Emily. its so good to come back to the cafe and read such intreaging Poems! you have painted me a beautiful picture of thoughs mountians and i now wish to see them.lol GReat write

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Loved this piece it was cool to hear you read it :-)

[Hedra Helix]

I love hearing your voice!! Aww that was frikkin awesome:)!!!

I love that last part, and the way you read it,

"Some say God is in the trees.
Someday--
if I'm not here where I ought to be . . .

You might find me in the mountains."

[Adrian K. Smith]

This piece speaks well of a journey within, touching upon that question of self that so many seem to find themselves asking. I am here, but am I there? Am I there, or am I here? Is there here? Is here there? The contrast offered in separating the two while perhaps wondering if the two are not the same came to mind; but of course I am not sure when I last read and reviewed something - so I am about as rusty as rusty can get, and then perhaps a little rustier than that. We belong where we belong, and where we belong may change from moment to moment...or perhaps the change is not really a change at all.

[a wildfire]

"Someday--
if I'm not here where I ought to be . . .

You might find me in the mountains."

me too.
a beautiful piece of work. reading this makes me feel like i'm home again.

[Snape]

I loved the feel of it, for some reason it reminded me of Scotland. Lovely poem.

[Cah]

Hello to Home, indeed. =)

There is no way that I can review this objectivly. The site of the words "Mamaw", "limestone and black oak" and the phrase, "Mountain folk are queer" all do me in with nostalgia.

It is a niece piece, though.

[BrightEyes]

I am originally a city girl, born and bred. I came here to the mountains ten years ago now. I have to say...it was some culture shock there....a lot of adjustments to be made. I have come to love my mountains....and all the different challenges it brings as opposed to that city life. Though I do not wish to share my home with them (which does happen from time to time) I have come to love all the creatures who make their home here as well. It is funny though...that while this is where I call home...every year when I return to the city...I once again fall into that place as well. Still...the mountains do hold a special call all their own...perhaps..it is just that they are so closer to sky.

[Ladysue]

This is such a beautiful piece filled with great imagery and it displayed a peaceful feeling for me.

[KUFU]

Earl Hamner Jnr. would be proud. You seem to capture the spirit of his "The Waltons" with this work, in the sense of the voice and tone. You make it more personal when you write:

"Why is the sight of those green trees reaching
Toward the sky as familiar as the fingers
On my own hand? � Reaching.
For what I can't name."

...a continuance of a forgotten family tree? Or an inherent reckoning of the truth/reality? At any rate, the 'reaching' for what you cannot name is a great line to add to the myriad possibilities of your family tree...of our human tree.
An interesting piece. Though this was written some-time ago; now knowing/understanding yer motive, your voice is loud and clear...and is the voice I detect in your most current writings.