App-Lach-Ia Poem by March Nicks

All my life, my identity has been rooted in these mountains.
Planted firm in the idea of what is Appalachian.
But still, I find myself searching,
Looking for the definition
Of what it means to truly be Appalachian.

Is it the music birthed from porch steps?
Banjos picking their way through the air,
Guitars strumming ancient melodies,
The floor being shook by the deep voice of the doghouse bass
All reaching deep into our souls.
Reverberating the refrains heard long ago.
In these parts, sheet music doesn't exist.
Our ballads are passed down from ear to ear.
Because the tune is embedded deep into our hearts













Is it the search for righteousness?
A calling our people have struggled to answer
Since the dawn of our very existence.
The mission to love thy neighbor as theyself,
To seek the very nature of the heart of God.
Lifting one another up in times of trouble,
With the knowledge that your brother would do the same.
When faith the size of a mustard seed
Is more than a verse on a page,
Sometimes it is the very idea that keeps a man going.

As I look through the mirror,
Seeing all of these things looking back at me,
I realize being Appalachian is more.
It's more than words can comprehend,
It's a beautiful tradition
Bathed in the light of the same sun
That breathes life into our peaks.
And I'm proud to be a daughter of these mountains
That call me home each and every day.