Heirloom

Here, you run wild, dig holes, catch crawdads
Wake early to put in your day.
You are irreverent, naked, emancipated, here
Turning brown, fast.

You explode the old shed, tractors,
Find ancient ropes and tools, rusted chains,
Climb trees, eat blackberries, get dirty.
And clean, in the creek where I swam.

This is your heritage, a country life,
Running in fields your great-grandfather plowed-
You are breathless, drowning in history, time, place.
Make it your own: it will yield to you

As it has to every true hand an eye before:
This land the Cherokees knew, and used
Grew green and rich,
Fed families - here you are.

All the old ones have left the land, now.
Here are their marks: a stone wall, a dug pond.
They fade with disuse: enfold them,
Give them names, make them real again, your own.

Create legends, kingdoms, journeys, memories.
Bring your children here, tell them your story.
Keep it living, lived in, loved, alive:
Let the world move on - keep this sacred.