holy color

Holy Color - Poem by Heather A. Davis

Your echoes linger on the edges in the Smoky Mountain fog
In petal red, or blue? The poet’s everywhere-tint
Infiltrates insidiously, glancing, gliding under my skin.

Move on, you whisper, No more time for love.
Love grown out of Tennessee barn oak
Floated on Scottish dry docks,
Love grown out of three-thousand miles of red, white, and blue.

Now we walk past the Cherokee land until we spy
The seagulls’ wings; sail east, then up the River Clyde
To Dunoon, where sailors and war brides married
Where mother met father, and I met you.

But these mountains have been deceiving me for years.
Hurry now! the mantra grows, Move on…move on
Past your foothills ghost, past the shipbuilders’ loch,
On past a struggle’s end.

Red, only in the mountains’ falling leaves
Blue, only in my eyes
And the holy color dying.

Heather A. Davis

Heather A Davis is a writer, community radio DJ, and healthcare activist, and is currently pursuing her PhD in Human Geography / Health Inequities at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville. She is a dual US/UK national born and raised in the Knoxville area. She lived, studied and worked in Baltimore and Scotland for many years. Her work has appeared in the Knoxville Mercury, National Academy of Medicine’s Visualize Health Equity community art permanent online gallery, and Liquid Imagination. She is the winner of the 2017 Knoxville Writers’ Guild Autumn Contest in Literary Short Fiction.

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