10/01/2024
The Blue Ridge is Still Blue
By Carmen Eckard, Foothills Digest
The Blue Ridge is still blue—though the skies split wide,
Mountains, older than the bones of time,
Held strong in the face of fury—
Unshaken by the tempest’s cry.
These ridges, they breathe—
They know the wind, they’ve kissed the rain.
In the silence, in the storm,
They grow tall, rooted deep in the earth’s domain.
They’ve watched rivers rise—
Swell and roar,
They’ve bent but never broken,
For they are more than stone—they are lore.
These mountains hold the tales of old—
Of battles fought, and valleys sown,
Of those who leaned against their might
And found the strength to carry on.
They whisper truths in windswept groves,
Their myths in every tree that grows.
More than rock, they cradle dreams,
More than land, they shape our seams.
And we, the people born of these hills,
We carry grit in our blood—grit like steel.
The fire in our feet, the moxy in our hearts,
We rise, we rebuild—on this sacred land.
Our roots run deep as the trees that stand,
Together, we rise, together, we mend.
We are the knowledge of the old,
A people connected, a story retold.
But hear me now, and heed the sound—
These mountains may seem forever bound,
Yet the earth still shifts, the rivers surge,
Nature’s balance remains at the verge.
We cling to the ridges, trusting their grace,
But we must honor this sacred place.
For this rainforest, more precious than gold,
Is a cradle of life, both fragile and bold.
The Blue Ridge stands, yes, strong and true—
But it asks of us respect, anew.
As we rebuild, we must be wise,
Lest we forget what nature provides.
For the Blue Ridge is still blue—
Steadfast and strong—and so are you.
