Transmutation in the South

Chicago is the North you know to think of when living in the South —
especially the Deep South.

You kind of know of New England but not really,
not enough to consider it —
just like you wouldn’t the Pacific Northwest.

Maybe it’s because we follow the rivers,
but North is Chicago, Baltimore, NYC.

I spent years in Alabama within my own solitude
at the base of commercialized Appalachia,
on Muskogee land, once plantation.

I sat in the energies lingering in the earth —
now paved with roads,
littered with commercial buildings
and heavy traffic.

I sat listening to the stories
all these activities have silenced —
made easy to ignore for some.

I felt the sadness,
betrayal,
and longing for the people
removed from the land’s natural intentions.

I felt their fears,
the spells they cast
with tears and blood.

I felt the animals displaced,
looking for a way to persist,
to coexist
whilst every decision is working against them
through ignorance and fear.

I watched the invasive species
grow to be celebrated — purposefully —
while native species are lost
and forgotten in time.

I felt the haunting remnant of Appalachia mystics;
the owls in the trees
would bring you to your knees.

I felt the energy signatures left by each,
and I craved escape —
to Louisiana.

To the land that felt like the comfort of a mother.
Not because she didn’t know pain,
but because she experienced it so wholly,
she transmuted it to beauty
where it could coexist.

And it’s there,
on that land,
that my soul is free to dance
with its ancestors —
to dance again,
to transmute
as they had.