Glenda Barrett from the north Georgia mountains, is a widely published poet and writer. Her chapbook, When the Sap Rises, will be published by Finishing Line Press in the spring of 2008.
I asked for a couple of her poems to share with you. Her true mountain voice is heard in each one.
Echoes
I cannot silence
the talk of war,
a rising drug market
or the cries of the homeless.
Yet, sheltered in the Appalachians,
I can be grateful for simple pleasures:
the surprise of the first snowflake,
a newborn colt on wobbly legs,
wild violets in the spring,
pink sunsets over blue mountains,
bales of hay in green pastures,
and a freshly plowed garden patch.
Yes, I am only one,
but I can follow in the footsteps
of my faithful ancestors,
people who were truthful,
who said what they meant,
and meant what they said,
who held firm to their beliefs
and rose above their hardships.
People whose voices still echo
across these Blue Ridge mountains,
I was born here, and I'll die here!
The Flight Homeward
As the wild geese lift
from the water's edge
and slowly rise above
the Blue Ridge mountains
covered with morning fog,
I watch their silhouette
against a deep, blue sky.
Deep inside, a part of me
longs to reach higher and higher
to leave some kind of lasting memory.
Maybe, it will be nothing more than
a glimpse of me living my simple life,
just as I've witnessed the geese
soaring across the horizon.
By Glenda Barrett, Hiawassee, Georgia
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