Blessings of Appalachia

A poem by Emily Kledzik

i hope when you die, that your veins run with the water of the brooks,

that your eternal eyes see the decomposition of the leaves–

ferns feast

ing on your pupils as you see the mites on their stems.

i see moss growing up your bones, it crept over from the waterfall rocks

to rest on you, to offer softness to your spirit.

i hope that the trout-lily nods gently from your ribs.

i call the fair folk to welcome you within them, to rise in trickery and joy of life,

let your soul take their hand as they lead you to the land of milk and honey.

i hope when god is painting the next winter frost, he hands you the brush for a few strokes.

i hope when the sun is smiling, you laugh down at us too.

i hope you forget nothing, you simply watch the waters of the river wash away hurt,

leaving ecstatic peace in its wake–your soul’s beauty finally at the forefront.

i hope you are found again as a body of bone, flame azaleas, softest moss.