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.

[Lola Nation]

"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. " -- very nice analogy.

I rather enjoyed this piece and where it took me - the genteel curiousity of the mountains between the people who understand the essence of nature around them to the possibility that one could even find God in such a place.

[Philosophile. (Maddy)]

Loved the imagery! Your personification of the hills was genius, and I found this to be something I could relate to. Very well written!

[Antony]

Being one with nature is a gift and this sounds almost as if you had or are having a dream, like someplace you are trying to reach, because there is something special there for you........you may think or dream about it but are not certain that it is your time to go there. This is amazing Emily.

Tony

[Ed Hart]

Those hills, they're always calling us. And oceans, too; they like to call. And deserts. And wild places. They answer us before we ask the questions. Calling us, calling us home, to peace, to grandure, to simplicity. Of course you hear the call, you of all people...

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

It is said home is where the heart is and sometimes it isn't necccasrily where you were born... you can be drawn to something you have never known before... Love this piece.

[Touché Armada]

Ooo see I find this a better mystery than anything, the pull of places has always intrigued me. Not as well travelled as some but far more travelled than others,
There are mountains and cliffs and dunes and forest groves that seem to be as familiar as my own back yard, there is a place in Nez Zealand I was lucky enough to stay (I stayed with one of the chiefs for a night with my daughter, the place is called Milford Sound (you can google it) you can really only explore that place by boat, and where the engines are shut down its silent but at the same time its loud, loud with a whispery noise, between the distant waves the wind in the trees high high up and the waterfalls in the opposing distance, its ancient that place, like most wilderness places, and you become totally enveloped in its majesty like you might be a part of it and always have been, it's a calling you cant help answering to out loud with "I've always known this place", and today I am a part of it, and after today it will always be a part of me.

[AK]

Those who have heard nature's whisper know just what you mean. And maybe Mamaw was right... maybe some folks are a little different in terms of their connection with all the beauty and handiwork that surrounds us. But how can one ignore the hills when they call?

[Sound]

This poem gave me goosebumps. A good kind of sensation, though. As if I've read those lines and have experienced those same sights. It reminds me so much of my parents home. Wonderful.

[Gandré]

I liked how you speak here about your connection with the nature
and how it is moving your readers.. beautiful!

[Creepy Swine Guy]

I know I reviewed this before. I suspect that it was before the "Great Crash". Let me say again that I believe that this is your signature poem. The ending:

"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."

... is incredibly powerful. I believe that it displays the heart of what makes you a superb writer. What makes you my favorite poet.