The Ties that Bind

The Ties that Bind

In the beautiful Smoky Mountains
that bred me long ago,
the oak trees stand and quiver
by a river I use to know.

There under the glistening moonlight
I’d often wonder why,
as I stopped by the water to listen
I could hear a gentle sigh.

As though I had heard a calling
from somewhere deep within,
a forest thick with evergreen
that I was standing in.

I thought about my family
from generations before
who’d fought, and lived, and died there
settling all the scores.

How the very soil I stood upon
was washed with ancestral blood,
while lineal voices from yesterday
still echoed in the wood.

Scotch - Irish, German and French
had sailed across the sea,
to a land completely unknown
filled with trepidation and mystery.

I thought of the overwhelming excitement
that must have shown on their face,
when first seeing the beauty
of such a splendid place.

How it must have felt to stand
at the very same water as me,
walking the hills and the hollows
touching the great oak trees.

The moon that had helped guide them
was still shining high above;
it showed them a path to follow
as they lingered in the place I now stood.

I began to feel unrelenting remorse
that I had lived my life in such vain,
when those who had come before me
had forged relentlessly to hand me their name.

I knew I must take this awakening
into my current state,
and walk proudly into the future
heeding off any uncalled for mistakes.

As how can one ever discount
the ties that lead to our past,
that placed us where we now stand
that cast the dye that was cast?

Our ancestor’s course through our blood
like the river flows out to the sea,
carrying us back into yesterday
and straight into eternity.