Eyes black as coal
from the land of those who came before.
Mountain folk
Strong. Brave. Authentic.

An element
of the very earth,
      mined, and rare.

Beautiful, innocent, pure
a springtime sun spilling over the high ridges
gently pushing through branches
Their young leaves
      soaking soaking soaking
      the rays
            and smiling greengold.

She is me. Looking back.
Another time. Another place.

A cell divided.

A poet
A daughter

My pride.


Posted on

June 11, 2020

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