Muddy water runs in my veins
from Arkansas generations who knew
more dirt than gold, a belly full of hunger,
and moonshine bottled in glass.
The dustbowl didn’t bring their
Grapes of Wrath…It was revenuers
with their nostrils to the ground
sniffing out the family business.
With handcuff incentive they piled
possessions and children on trucks
and took a midnight flight to safer ground
across the border into Missouri.
Two families- one flight - kept them
living together in getting by until
circumstances grew a new limb
by joining my parents as husband and wife.
My name sits on a muddy water tree
where death came sooner than later,
poor did what it did to survive, and
moving on never escaped its roots.
©Susie Clevenger 2014
Kay over at Real Toads prompted us to write a ballad.