The Mountains, They Sing

a poem for my mountains and my people, in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene

Photo by Sean Foster on Unsplash

The mountains 
They sing
Songs of untold sorrow
And the merciless sting of death
Bodies washed clean
In the dirty flood waters 
Oh, the mountains 
The mountains 
They sing 

The mountains 
They sing 
Soft ridges
And hard water
Wails of despair 
Echoing in jagged hollers
The notes of loss
Wretched and innumerable
Oh, the mountains 
The mountains 
They sing 

The mountains 
They sing
Anguish on display
In misty melodies
The whispering woods
Crying out in grief 
Of life and love
Carried away
Oh, the mountains 
The mountains 
They sing 

The mountains
They sing
Of isolation and misery 
Carved out in a moment
Piercing deep ravines 
Flowing through Appalachian hearts 
Mud covering moss-carpeted floors
In meadows of agony 
Oh, the mountains
The mountains
They sing 

The mountains 
They sing
Of winding streams 
And serene slopes 
Spiraling into deluge
Rushing down valleys
Turning on corners 
That feel like pangs
Of wretched heartache 
For my home 
Oh, the mountains
The mountains 
They sing 

The mountains 
They sing 
Of sovereign grace 
In the grief 
Of endless mercy 
In the mess 
Of God moving 
In the midst
A song of helpers
Rising higher
A song of bearing 
With one another  
Hand in hand
Neighbor to neighbor
And wading 
Through the timbre 
Of desolation
A Light shines
Breaking through 
Voices rise
Appalachia Strong
And the mountains
Oh, the mountains
They sing 
                    --Anna--

**This post is a repost, and this poem was originally published here on substack in 2024, a few weeks after Hurricane Helene unexpectedly hit Appalachia. Wherever the Lord takes our family, a piece of my heart will always be in those beautiful mountains, and with my people there.