Legacy from the Past

As long as I can remember, I have always felt connected with the past. Perhaps it originated with the stories my grandmother and mother told of how things used to be. Maybe it's part of my Appalachian heritage. 

In any regard, I've always been interested in history, folk studies, arts and crafts, traveling and learning. Some of these interests seem unusual for an only child growing up in the rural foothills of the mountains and never spending a night away from her mother until she went to college. In fact, none of my relatives even believed I would stay at Appalachian State University. They were sure I would get too

homesick and come home. It never happened, and I can never remember being homesick any time in my life, even when I

traveled the world or was in the mission field.

When I recently took the poetry class at Chowan University, I drew on my appreciation of the past to write some of my poems. I thought I would share another one with you.

      Ancestors

I am my mother and father,
Struggling to pull a living
From impotent red clay.
I’m my poor grandparents,
Tramping the secluded Appalachians
To harvest timber’s treasure.
I’m made of countless who came

To North Carolina long ago—
An English doctor sailing across an ocean
In hopes of finding New World success,
Daniel Boone ever pushing west,
To have freedom from the wilderness,
A scoundrel who fled to Texas
And discovered oil at Spindletop,
An Indian married to her Dutch soldier.
I hear whispers of countless ancestors
Who blazed trails for me to follow
And left visions for me to dream.
They move about me, in and out,
And leave fingerprints across my brow,
As they help to shape and mold.
I am a composite of them all,
But the image of none.

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