
By Bill Dockery
We celebrate the Cumberlands
Where layer on layer of sandstone has been shoved up
out of long-dry seas
Where rocks in the Flynn Creek Disturbance bear witness
to a cosmic collision millions of years ago
Where cool sands boil in the Blackburn Fork, burning
no one but bubbling nonetheless
Where a Roaring River lies silent
under bony white sycamores
Where the first residents left marks and signs
to decorate secret paths through the limestone
Where gravity tears down the living rock,
drip by drop, grain by grain,
moving mountains toward stasis.
All the forces in the Cumberlands are cosmic, universal, the journey work of the stars …
And we, no less …
we who, through accident of birth or wandering or choice,
have populated the Cumberlands,
fields and hollows, woods and waterways
We who bury our dead in tented graves
along the headwaters of the Calfkiller
Who dam the Collins and the Rocky and the Caney
to make lightning
Who mow the grasses of Flynns Creek for hay
Who wrangle goats in ranches on the hillsides
and build small, white churches
We are our own force of nature
We wield our own powers
over those fields, woods, creeks and rivers,
Power over one another — for good and for bad
Power to accept or reject
to love or scorn, to divide or unite
We are marked by the landscape around us
But we mark that landscape,
as sure as the water etches ancient stone.
We, too, wear away,
But we must always open ourselves to growth,
to being lifted
Yes, we celebrate where we are
But let us always and ever celebrate who we are
Seizing and using our ancient and future power
for compassion and doing good.
9 Feb 2020, revised 25 March 2020
Dedicated to the people of
The Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Cookeville
Wow! With that great photo I wish I could go back and make my reading better. Page looks GREAT!
Beautiful poem, Bill. Love the visual imagery. “Who damn the Collins, and the Rocky, and the Caney to make lightening” (electricity?) “populated the Cumberlands, fields and hollows, woods and waterways”, “mow grasses, wrangle goats, build small, white churches”. “As the water etches ancient stone, we, too, wear away”.