BLUE RIDGE REQUIEM

Down in the Holler 
where the low wind moans 
and the ghosts of bones
fill the sand and stones;

the River rushes 
while the black bear strays
where the jaybird plays
as the willow sways;

cradled in branches
where the waters rose
hang the hearts of those
whom the Seeker knows;

deep in the mudflats
in their beds of clay
there the Sleepers lay
as their Weepers pray

Hymns to the Mountains
and the Bluegrass song
hear them sing along
through the ages long;

Voices of Angels
Fill the Mountain air
as they sing a prayer
to the mourners there;

Sing to the heartache
when the River flows -
where the Dead repose 
only Jesus knows.