Kept In A Hillside Perspective
by Michael Doyle

I've heard a lot of jokes
About being close to inbred
It's the kind of a thing
That rolls around in my head

Over and over again
Playing a memory's allusion
Against something, I can't defend
As I have been searching in confusion

Yet, I know my momma
She was born in those hills
And was proud of West Virginia
Always doing as she believed the Lord wills

Some times things said
Burn something fierce and incendiary
As these roll around in my head
Turning hillbillies into something legendary

Called stupid and other such names
With almost nobody thinking it's cool
Knowing of the hurts and the shames
But, my momma had me reading before pre-school

On life's rocky road sort of driven
There's no way there but to go through
In all the grief lived and hope given
Those who make it are the proud but few

Yet, every inch of it is lived loud and proud
As we make our own dreams come true
And city folk, they say that's not allowed
Yet, country folk only listen when they want to

In all of the little battles of life
That are quietly fought in
Let the presence of the Lord
Never be something that is forgotten

There were many lessons learned
At my hillbilly mother's knee
Most of the best, powerfully discerned
As I have comfortably grown into me

I don't mean to make this moment sound
Too inwardly awkward and reflective
It's just something kept there inside
That helps keep things in perspective

It's said, my mother did things in her time
This, I have always been reminded and told
It's just a bit too unfortunate 
How she never lived to learn how to be old

(c) March 29, 2021  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved