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joyce-compton-brown
Joyce Compton Brown attended grew up in a small NC town filled with kin. / After undergraduate degrees at Appalachian State University and a Ph.D. in American lit at University of Southern Mississippi, she graded thousands of term papers. She loves the Blue Ridge and has written essays and poems for numerous Appalachian journals. She writes a column for a small town paper, the Shelby Star.
Poems1
Words71
Family Gravestones, 2012 I search for ancient paths Deep rutted, hidden by catbriars and laurels Washed by rain, trodden by my mother, invisible others, Grandmothers and aunts carving tortuous trails Dug deeper by custom and love, Red veined tendrils Under history’s tangled growth. I follow their tears, the strings, The scattered household debris Of women’s work—cast iron pots, Old *** blades, treadles, rusted with disuse, String quilts and melted firewood. You, Vera, Louisa, Catherine, Prudence, Elizabeth And names now invisible, I’m coming with my shears and blades, My crosscut saws made strong by other seekers. We snip, we cut, we tear at the weeds of illusion That hide your deep and righteous trails.
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Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 6:24 PM UTC
joyce-compton-brown
Family Gravestones, 2012
Family Gravestones, 2012 I search for ancient paths Deep rutted, hidden by catbriars and laurels Washed by rain, trodden by my mother, invisible others, Grandmothers and aunts carving tortuous trails Dug deeper by custom and love, Red veined tendrils Under history’s tangled growth. I follow their tears, the strings, The scattered household debris Of women’s work—cast iron pots, Old *** blades, treadles, rusted with disuse, String quilts and melted firewood. You, Vera, Louisa, Catherine, Prudence, Elizabeth And names now invisible, I’m coming with my shears and blades, My crosscut saws made strong by other seekers. We snip, we cut, we tear at the weeds of illusion That hide your deep and righteous trails.
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