March Nicks Poems

Do you remember your first book?
The first one you read all on your own?
The first time that words came to life?
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All my life, my identity has been rooted in these mountains.
Planted firm in the idea of what is Appalachian.
But still, I find myself searching,
Looking for the definition
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I know a secret I must not tell.
Deep down inside, my bones know a truth
More true than anything else ever spoken.
That there is a curse of Appalachia.
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For the little girl, the one who occupies my soul
The one who reminds me of simpler times
Your time is coming, and these are the things I wish for you
I hope you will always march to the beat of your own drum
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Ink on the page,
painting pictures of life,
of death, and all the things between.
Prompted to write for a moment of escape,
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Our mother cradles us to sooth our pain
She covers us in a hedge of protection
Keeping out the monsters that lie under our beds
Waiting for the right moment as we sleep our dream away
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Time is fleeting, our days depleting
We have to get this right

Polar bears are starving,
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As children, our cries are hushed
Our parents beg us not to make a scene
Sit down, be calm, be quiet
Don't draw attention
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It could happen to you
The news make's it seem so foreign
People crying
Asking questions
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Let's pause for a moment of silence

Columbine
Heritage
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