The Walk, a Poem by My Mother, Nova Hicks Bussey, 1958

The picture on the right is a view of the David coal camp from the hills

The poem below is one of many written by my mother, Nova Hicks Bussey. She wrote it about her real experience of going into the hills to find some peace and relief from her hard life. I love you Mother.

THE WALK

I took a walk this morning, in the early morning breeze
A rabbit crossed my path; I heard the squirrels in the trees.

I like to walk in the morning and relieve my worried mind--
To look at nature around me, hoping a new treasure I'd find.

This morning my mind and heart were troubled. From my face, I wiped a tear.
I wanted to keep going so far up the mountain feeling God was near.

I stopped to pluck a daisy. Memories of my youth came back to me,
Telling fortunes with this beautiful flower sitting under an old, old tree.

I walked up the mountain. Sumac was low and crowded too.
Wild grapes were hanging all around, I stopped to pick a few.

I saw a snake sleeping peacefully, I moved on without any fear.
This was his kingdom and his castle, I had no right to interfere.

I stood admiring drift wood in the small mountain stream,
Scenery so beautiful, it would be any artist's dream.

My mind became less worried because exhaustion had overcome me.
I came to an opening and sat down on the soft grass, under a tall oak tree.

I sat there wondering how much further I had to go.
The path seemed to get more narrow but I'd make it if I took it slow.

I prayed as I walked the narrow path because it had become difficult to see.
I looked to see a huge rock looming, high over me.

Through a clearing I could see the top of the mountain,
It seemed to touch a bright blue sky.

Briars scratched my legs and arms, it didn't hurt.
I had to make it and I'd try.

The rest of the path was rocky, but soon I reached my goal.
I flung myself on the ground sobbing to the depths of my soul.

Rain came beating down on my face, and the wind began to blow.
I said," God, will my life always be filled with fear and hate? Please, God, I have to know".

I saw the trees bending to and fro, their leaves almost covering me.
I wiped the rain from my eyes, then I saw this small tree, unknown to me.

It was taking a beating, but its leaves were hanging on
While the leaves of the oak were on the ground. The oaks, so tall and strong.

The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
I looked at that little tree (and it seemed to me, I grinned)

I said to myself,"Why, that little tree could be me."
I'd manage to hold my own because the strongest really are weak.

I started back towards home. I looked up and smiled into heaven.
It seemed to be quiet and peaceful as I went back down.
Written by Nova Hicks Bussey, 1958 
COPYRIGHT  HELD BY NOVA'S PROJECT 1986