Momma Rhodes

Heart Garden,
May 21, 2009 by Judy Rhodes
place me in the heart garden
the rocks, the weeds, the seeds
where forgotten bulbs lie
in the back of the home where
grandma and granddaddy
loved, lived, and raised
heroes of wars,
and singers of songs,
talented and beautiful youngsters
just let me grow in the dirt they walked on
grasping, I missed
let me forget
and turn under in the rich
black, brown, red earth under
the homeland pine
where children ran
chickens balked
wild cats stalked
where Grandma hung her clothes
let me rest there
and dream of better times
under her clothes line
where life’s sorrows
were placed in
a canning jar
and buried there
under an Indian fire
a Scots-Irish desire
of buffalo nickels
and chicken wire

Helene tore up these mountains in ways that none of us and none of our local ancestors had ever witnessed. She tore through lives, hillsides, old trees, well made roads, highways and bridges as if they were toothpicks.
A farmer knows that the roots of a plant are prepared for new life. I think we have all seen that the Appalachian people are connected to the roots of these mountains. And I for one, could not be more proud to say my family has all been here for 200 to 300 years.
Tomorrow night a group of us will be singing some old ballads from here in the mountains. Most of them came over from Europe and were continued to be passed down from generation to generation through our oral tradition. Come to the White Horse Black Mountain in Black Mountain and join with your community to see the strength of the ages in song. I'll be there with some of my dear friends. Entry is a donation which will be split with the community and us musicians. I may not be able to get out there and pull stuff out of the way, but I can give you what I have been given from my ancestors. Let's keep showing Appalachia Strong!