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[appalachiasferaldaughter]

8.2

We carried back a basket of ginseng, Dad showed Bubby the red beans that they grew, Mama took the basket to start rinsing, I sat on the porch to think things through.

Everyone converged on the porch too, after a while. I asked my parents this: “Are there other gods?” —heard the breaths that drew. Bubby looked at them while his thoughts conflict.

“Why you asking? Who you’ve been talkin’ to?” The prompt rebuke I expected from Mom, My next words I had under strict review, I gulped, “Aunt Fern is where the thought came from, “She said not to worship trees as a god, But pastor says only one god exists, So, being able to worship is odd— anything that isn’t God yet persists.”

“Now look here—” she started, but Dad stopped her, pulled her shoulders back: “I will handle this. Go take Bubby inside and start supper.” I could feel his belt already—seven hits, one for each year-old I was.

Mom glared at me, then back at Dad, and sighed: “You better nip those thoughts right in the bud.” She took Bubby inside. I heard him cry, “Why is Sissy gettin’ spanked?” Those words tugged.

Dad waited till things settled down inside, Then he sat down on the porch swing, pulled out his Marlboros and lit one while we eyed. Tears plunged as I waited for his shout.

He searched my eyes carefully, God’s priest, Took a long time to respond, but he said: softly “The Word says other gods exist—at least ones that were made up in nature, I’ve read.

Your Aunt was worried because, well, it runs in the family, I ‘spose—heathen ways.” My brow furrowed. He caught that: “Those are ones I hope you never have to meet these days.”

Dad took a long drag from his cigarette, I felt safe enough to sit beside him on the porch swing—but still a looming threat, The crickets had begun their evening hymn.

“There are ones from the clan that turned away, Thought it better suited them to serve false gods, ‘cause our forebears used to walk that way. Back in the old country, they were called ‘Norse’.”

“Our family used to serve other gods?!”

“Our family worshipped other gods, yes, Back when we lived in the East, in Europe, Gods named Odin, Dagda, ones who are less than the one true god—Yahweh—who took up

our heathen clan and saved us from hellfire.

You see, Daughter, we didn’t understand that one god created all of nature, and created all of us with his hand, that there was one high god who was greater,

All we knew, all we could see, was nature. The sun sustained us, the deer herds fed us, So we thought, these things are gods, creators, and we dedicated ourselves with trust.

We did this for centuries, until one who knew the true god showed us our errors, And our brand-new lives, that day, had begun, and our family became Truth’s bearers.

Our forebears burned everything pagan and contrary to the Word of Jesus Christ. Their actions left the old country shaken, And felt it was best to come here in flight.

So, yes, it is possible to worship other gods who are lesser than Jesus. But you’ve seen yourself, when Spirit stirs up, Why worship dead gods when Jesus keeps us?

He is alive.” One last exhale of smoke, and he got up, Threw the filter in the respective pile, And went inside—the door slam was abrupt. I stayed on the porch and cried for a while.

I cried relief that the belt was spared me, I cried joy for our clan was saved and spared, But then I thought of the lost who weren’t free from Satan’s grasp. I cried ‘cause I was scared.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

8.1

Nose stung with the wet, wild earth below, Rising with the humid air and carried with the cicada's song through the plateau, Steam of past rain lifting—the wind tarried.

Daddy scanned the natural terrain for any plant that looked familiar to daddy’s mama and her mama before, and all the mamaws to this land were new.

His swollen, strong hands held a knife that thrust through the overgrowth to make a path himself. His lungs worked harder from the coal mine dust, But I knew the Marlboros didn’t help.

I followed closely behind him, waiting to hear instructions to help or gather, “What is out here?” my own lungs inflating, No response. I let go of the matter.

I learned quickly that my Old Man did not mean to ignore us when we ask questions, In a way, he taught us that nature caught his attention so strong that the lessons

were actually taught by the mountain.

What do I mean? Well, the silence taught us that the mountain is always making noise, You should know what she always discusses As well as the tone of her subtle voice.

Because one day, deep down within her heart, She may have a different song to sing, And your only warning to turn, depart, Are the absence of critter sounds that ring.

Therefore, when dad finally stopped to speak, we listened—it has to be important for him to interject the roaring creek with his coffee-laden voice sounding weak. “You see that?” he pointed at a green plant, with what looked like red berries, or red beans shooting up at the center with a slant, “That right there are American Ginsengs.”

He approached and turned out to be a group of red something-or-others from the ground. “The real medicine is found in the root,” He used his knife to dig into the mound.

Daddy made sure to show us medicine on every walk and hike in the woods. An odd herb, plant, and piece of venison I didn’t realize were priceless health goods.

My dad greatly respected the mountain, As much as he respected church and God. “How far is too far?” I often questioned, Daddy set the standard in that regard.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

In a world of black and white, I appreciate the little moments of color.

Hail Moder Jörð 🦋

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

Night Thoughts VIII

The phantom of your hand holds mine at walks, Especially as the sun is setting, I hear the faintest whisper of our talks, My head turns at the risk of forgetting.

The brown of the doe’s eyes looking at me remind me of the halls I would lose myself in when you stared as my soul to yours plead to stay where you are so my heart could swell

until it bursts from being full of you.

But like the doe shrouded deep in the green, I had to hide myself from your presence, From afar I watched your being turn obscene, And drive me to the ghost of your essence.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

7

Despite the dogma surrounding my life, I still found myself drawn outside with her: The mountains and her woods—the moon, her bride, And the critters, spirit and flesh, that were.

The fear of witchcraft plagued the clan and folk: Everything outside the church walls—dark. “Satan roams outside, Church!” The preacher spoke, Hushed amens and head nods the pews remarked.

I thought something was wrong with my sight. Where? My eyes could not see the doom out yonder. Summer, I saw life flourishing out there, Winter, snow covered the nude, deer wandered.

I sat under a tree to hide from heat, A mighty oak that provided much shade. I touched a branch, “Thanks for relief so sweet.” My Aunt heard me, and rebuked me, afraid.

I cried. What did I do wrong? She explained: “You were just being kind, I know. But God made the tree. So thank him. Don’t entertain Satan, for he hides, puts on a façade,

and it’s a slippery slope to darkness.”

“Why can’t we see him?” I asked my Aunt Fern. “Because,” she paused, “he likes to trick people, and make them think that, for sin, they should yearn. Dark turns to light and good into evil.

And if you don’t know Jesus,” a deep sigh, “You won’t know the difference ‘fore too late.” The elk flashed before me, I almost died, Satan almost had me—was that my fate?

My Aunt Fern smiled, “But you know Jesus! Yes! You have nothing to worry about, dear, Just remember God and your praise express, For the Word says perfect love casts out fear.”

But when I praise, why do I still have fear?

Questions that ran but did not go too far, Since we were not supposed to dwell on them, Pastor said to think of good things that are, ‘Cause Christ will come and to Satan condemn. “One day we will live in Heaven—such joy!” I watched the deer herd at the wood’s entrance. “And this wretched place burns—we will avoid!” Do animals get to have repentance? I felt the elk’s gaze, then turned to the cross.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

Night Thoughts VII

One day I will say this, and you will speak. One day you will whisper this in our bed, One day will turn into many days, weeks, One day we will say all this when we wed.

“Mi Sarita, I am in love with you, I have loved you since the autumn season, My heart you have never had to pursue, I’ve stayed in your presence for this reason.”

‘Mi Luisito, te amo mucho, When I met you last year, my heart had wept, I have prayed for you for decades, you know, And when I found you, for joy, my soul leapt.”

One day I will hold you tight in my arms, One day, I will never have to let go, One day, you will reserve all of your charms, Let today be the day your love will show.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

These are all wonderful ideas. Thank y’all for sharing your practice.

I typically offer food offerings that I know the gods would accept but also can feed the local wildlife in the woods. For example, I will offer honey for Freyja and the ants and other critters will make use of the honey so none of it goes to waste. Or, I will offer oatmeal or corn to the landvættir which appear to me as deer herds, but the oatmeal and corn will feed and sustain the physical deer.

The advice here is sound: follow your intuition. You will know what feels right and what feels off. Don’t let the worry consume you. Just go with the flow ❤️

Okay serious question about norse mythology and norse culture... Is it OK to eat some or all of an offering you've given to a god you are worshipping?

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

This Again?

Do you expect me to forget my heart–

How it sprints toward you when I see your face,

To leave it dead – find a way to restart

and live again after you leave my gaze?

It hurts to die and resurrect, you know–

Wake up in a new timeline every day

with the same karma – can never outgrow,

And you’re my lesson, some rom-com cliché.

This will repeat until you and I change–

I’ve been trying to; you remain stagnant.

You must know something I don’t, which is strange,

Is there a danger when being absent?

Or am I just an addiction to you–

Another drug to test the boundary,

With every touch and kiss bound to woo,

But to have your heart is a luxury.

I saw you in the hallway after class–

Your back is turned and walking steadily.

To touch you or let you walk– an impasse,

You measure the energy carefully.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

Greetings, friends.

I wanted to take the time to thank y’all for reading and engaging with all my of my writings. I look forward to connecting with y’all more.

May the Allfather guide you in all of your ways.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

Hail, Spirit of the Mountain, Hail, Landvættir!

Hail to you, Spirit of the Mountain lands, Although I am from Appalachia, you welcome me as your own kin and Daughter.

Hail to you, Landvættir: the Great Deer Herds, The Guardians of these mountains and woods, Keepers of the Ancient Wisdom and tales.

May I recognize your presence all times, May I always listen when you speak up, May you be blessed in all your endeavors.

Hail, Spirit of the Mountain, Hail, Landvættir!

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

6

None were more faithful than I at that age, My parents commended by the elders: “What a fine example! What a nice change! She will make a splendid wife and helper.”

And that was all I heard from the women, That one day I’ll make a man very glad— The husband that God for me has given, To cherish me at good times and the bad.

I held all their promises close to heart, And echoed them back to God and his Christ: “Of my future husband, wisdom impart, That the first and only time I am right,

so there are no others except the One.”

If I could go back to that little girl, Who prayed so earnestly with hopes and dreams of a man to choose her over the world, I’d warn her that same God won’t hear her screams

because that future husband swallowed them under the stairwell.

I don’t know if she would listen to me, Voices in the church are told to be loud. All I can do is recall and agree that she did the best she could all around.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

Night Thoughts VI

“I love him,” I said, and he wouldn’t leave. “He loves you too, despite his objection, As much as he wants to trick and deceive, You both cannot sever this connection.”

Freyja said under the full moon’s light.

I always find him staring from afar, I cannot deny I’m yet on his mind. He guides my inner thoughts like a north star, All gods point to a union, I divined.

He knows this too. Why does he fight so hard? Is he scared of me or what we should be? Give us a chance, he won’t be caught off guard, A bright future with him is all I see.

He wants to kiss me. “Do it,” I tell him. But tied himself to another for now. It won’t last. I see the demise—how grim. And his lips will fall on mine anyhow.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

Night Thoughts V

“This is the last poem I will write about you.”

That’s what was said on your solar return. I remember when your face fell after, The regret was instant, feelings learned, We could no longer hide behind laughter.

And here I am, still writing you poetry. I complained that you are a bad liar, Heh, I suppose I am too, woefully. I want the upper hand—yours is higher.

I don’t know how to talk to you as “friend,” Because I’ve only known you as “soulmate,” That causes you to panic—constant trend, My feelings for you are not up for debate.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

5

At birdsong, the morning finally shone. Dared not move—lay on the cold ground all night. How my family found me is unknown, But I heard echoes of the hound in flight.

“I told y’all not to mess with goddamned haints,” My father scolded me and my brother, “Thank your lucky stars God heard your complaints, This would have destroyed me and your mother.”

My brother cried into our mother’s lap, She looked away while the priest of our home rambled about demons and their mishap, “—and you can only trust in Christ alone!”

Afterward, the belt had the final say, Despite protests from my aunt: “go to church, Don’t you think she learned her lesson that day? Take her Sunday, and God’s heart she will search.”

I kept a Bible in my room from that point, Tried to read it once a day—likewise pray. On Sunday, while pouring oil to anoint: “These things happen to teach us to obey,”

said the preacher who smoked like a coal train.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

Night Thoughts IV — Seizure

The tears fell down like weights along my cheeks.

The thought of losing you was like jailbreak

for my emotions buried six feet for weeks–

your brain overheating gave them a trach.

Suddenly like Christ on Easter Sunday,

My heart leaped up from the grave and said, “look,

don’t turn your back to him and get away,

the chords that bind you should not be unhooked.”

I did not want to let go of your hand.

The clock ticking forward was fucking cruel,

If I had my way, time would be banned

from the room, and our hearts would make the rules.

My first kiss with you was above your browbone,

I wish it was lower, but that’s okay,

Things are complicated, that much is known.

You are alive–again, my heart can pray.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

Your heart cries out for me and you'd do anything to silence it. I'd know. I'd know because while you might've done your best to forget about it, I can't help but remember that our hearts used to beat to the same rhythm. The connection stands. It's feeble, but it's still there, even if you try to smother it. I guess if two people used to understand each other without words, it leaves a mark, no matter how much you want to cover it up. I admire you for not wanting to pick at scabs. For wanting to see your scars healed. For deleting photos and texts, and for looking for ways to avoid saying my name out loud. Would you change history if you could? Erase and rewrite, or blot out the paragraphs about us? You've always been a bad liar, so you can go on and say you don't miss me. I know the truth. I can see it when I close my eyes. I can hear it in a room filled with laughter, conversation and music. But I respect your decision - I pretend nothing is amiss every time my heart beats without yours close to it.

your heart cries out for me / n.j.