Dreamin' of the Ole South

Days of slavery, glory and riches became long nights of war and the horror of death.

Dreams of twisted trees
draped heavy with Spanish Moss
perfect for hiding, keeping watch
over pregnant earth, muddy water.

Massive Oaks, Cherokee roses,
sweet honeysuckle, fertile ivy.
Frogs sing night songs
of eternal summer.

Days of glory and riches
evolved into cruel nights of war.
Yankee and Confederate,
muddy blood soaked ground.

Look back to glistening
waves of sugar cane,
wispy white fields of cotton
seeds slice skin, like bloody snow.

Backs bowed to unmerciful sun,
bred thoughtfully as cattle,
listed with property
balance humans and crops.

Boat loads of cotton,
chained Negro roustabouts,
pulse with chants, slow contractions;
chiseled, dark powerful bodies.

As the sweep of the river flows on,
a history of quiet fishing
taking families to visit.
It's both creator and serpentine destroyer.




By Kathie Stehr
Rewritten May 16, 2010