A Blue Ridge Tale

Today is my birthday. One of the greatest gifts in my life is my husband. We’ve been through a lot together, but I am a hopeless romantic and always believed in that knock-you-off-your-feet feeling.

I began writing poems from the very moment I realized he was special and important. I have kept all the poems in a small manuscript entitled Love, Marriage and the Baby Carriage. One poem from the collection I posted previously Chalk Art. This one I wrote inspired by our journeys to the mountains.

Photo by Rebecca T. Dickinson, Sept. 2009

By Rebecca T. Dickinson

Oh, my soul,

Where do you go,

When fervors are high

and spirits low?

It left

as quick as a storm

sweeping through

an empty night.

To the mountains

and in the skies

there does

my spirit lie

With him, my love,

I climb

Far above

The cities and lights.

My soul is sold,

Like a boy

Who

Long ago

Dealed the devil –

And dealed him well –

Gave him his soul

So his corn would grow.

The devil left hell

To make his claim

At the time

The boy’s life

Was said to end.

But He was tricked,

And tricked good.

The devil wondered

For miles and miles

Only to find

The boy was gone.

In those mountains,

The boy did climb

Higher and higher

Into the mists

Where he aspired

To watch the rivers

Become smaller.

The Blue Ridge

Showed mercy

Giving him back

His soul,

So long

As he

Would never leave.

He shook the limbs

Of the trees

And said,

“Here I will stay

And never leave.”

It was then

The waters came

Storming down;

Washing away

All the things

Threatening to take

The boy away.

Men’s voices echo

Through the years

Of lost love,

Trials and tears.

Their lives gone,

But Legend recalls

They are reason

Mountains

Exist at all.

We sail,

My love and I,

On a mountain,

Through mists,

And the skies

Far from

Those who

Try to break

The love

We create.

People often

Turn old

Before their time.

They say mountains

Are ancient

With old beasts,

But it is there

Passions run wild

Like two youths

With a hunger

To run on the loose.

Photo by Rebecca T. Dickinson

© 2010-2012 by R.T. Dickinson. All rights reserved. No part of this manuscript or material related to it may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of R.T. Dickinson.