Moss Grove
(Deep South)
From deep in the southern states, lifts spiritual gasps of need, passionate longing.
From these places there are hearts aged to the right side of belonging.
Songs blast ears. Eyes cry. Something down here demolishes fears.
Deep in these southern states the oldest of trees dance in a faint breeze.
Around here you’ll hear the moss sing
in the moss grove.
From deep in the southern states, suppresses knowledge of what is good.
From this exact place roads and buildings stand where soldiers stood.
Wrongs cost years. Tries tie. You’ll often hear a subtle query “who cares?”
We are deep in the thick of a battleground. The nation is seized.
Lost battles were wandering
around the moss grove.
From a rebel’s flag flying to a babies body trying to be born,
I will guarantee you now,
this nation is torn.
From ballrooms, horses, farms, and a dream that had to be shattered—
This deep south knows what was once supposed to be a nation.
But these families of warriors have had their minds cured.
These fifty states are united in one way, one great realization.
Racism is foul. Freedom is key.
And I feel all around me
liberty
Passing through the moss grove.
(2013)
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