25 September 2007
Coal Mother by Kelli Ward-Sturgill
My mountain,
My Mother.
Weeping with the blood
of my Grandfather's fathers,
Faces, stained black.
My mountain
Wails for justice,
Losing her voice,
Like a dying wick
in a smoldering candle.

Her children,
in the corner,
on scraps
from the master's table.
in darkness,
While she is raped.

Everything pure.
Everything just.
Everything Sacred.
Reduced to ashes and soot for a dollar.

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24 September 2007
Famous Appalachian Quote of the Day
I'm a hillbilly, a woman, and a poet, and I understood early on that nobody was going to listen to anything I had to say anyway, so I might as well just say what I want to.

- Irene McKinney, Poet Laureate, West Virginia

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