Most times I travel to see this stunning land
lying peaceful, silent and serene
as April departs her with a kiss.
Poets rightly wrote of her musical streams
and lakes. The hills hold a church-like,
cloistered way of life.
I’ve read histories of wars and change.
I’m relieved to see the South ever
glorious with tree-filled valleys.
I submit to the enchantment, vow to
honor her brethren but am wary of her
poverty, hidden by distance.
When I leave the South,
an ever-present sadness rides with me,
her awful struggles, the parts that are wondrous.
She’s a forgiving homeland that survives
human folly. Despite it all,
I can come home again.
I’m welcomed back despite my
prodigal heart. I do not deserve this place
so connected to my soul.
Still I wonder, where is home?
Born in Pulaski, VA, Bobby Bruch has been a resident of North Carolina over forty years. In 1986, 1987 and 1990, Bobby was a Sam Ragan Writer-in-Residence, Weymouth Center, Southern Pines, NC. Her works have appeared in The Crucible (1987), Pembroke (1989), NC Poverty Project (1989), Kakalak (2018) among others.
