Lay it down.

 

If the weight of the world is too heavy today, let it go for a moment.

Lay it down, if only for a minute or two; like a walker laying down their rucksack at the edge of a stream.

Lay it down and listen.

The world has its own rhythm; it's own pulse. It's own breath. Take time to listen, and to notice it. Notice the sounds of the wind and the smell of the earth after it's rained. Notice the colour of the sky and the texture of the grass and the shape of the clouds. Notice the light. And let it all soften the weight of the world around you.

Notice your own breath, your own rhythm, your own pulse. Lay down your rucksack and unpack what is not yours; and then find things that lighten the load even more. Find the things that bring you joy and let them grow: let them crack the weight of those burdens,

and allow light to filter in through the cracks.

You are not expected to hold the world, but to live within it.

And even if you cannot lift it all, you can always choose how to carry what is yours. You are strong enough to bear it.

But if you ever feel like you might crack under the weight...

Lay it down and listen.

Lay it down.

Breathe.

And notice your light.

*****

Becky Hemsley 2025

Artwork by Vijay Kumar via Pinterest

This poem is from If the Stars Could Speak

Source: Becky Hemsley Poetry on Facebook

Calling You ~ Hank Williams

 

Carry Me Home – The Saddest Irish Rebel Song

 

The Quiet Rebellion, 'Carry Me Home'

Carry Me Home

In the cold gray dawn, they took him away.
Chains on his wrists, no words left to say.
He smiled through the tears as the rain fell down
For the land he loved in this worn out town.

The fields are still green, but the hearts turn to stone.
Empty chairs by the fire where the young ones have gone.
Mothers still weep for the sons they can't hold.
Dreams of tomorrow buried deep in the cold.

Oh, carry me home to the hills I once knew,
Where the rivers run free and the skies are still blue.
Though the fight took my youth and it broke me in two,
I'll rise in your heart, forever true.
Oh, carry me home,
My brothers, adieu.

We marched for the freedom we never would see,
Gave all that we had for the right to be free,
Now the songs in the wind are the only ones left,
Whispers of glory and unending regret.

Oh, carry me home to the hills I once knew,
Where the rivers run free and the skies are still blue.
Though the fight took my youth and it broke me in two,
I'll rise in your heart, forever true.
Oh, carry me home,
My brothers, adieu.

No victory march, no triumphant refrain,
Just the ache of the lost and the weight of the chain.

Oh, carry me home to the hills far away,
Where the souls of the fallen still fight to this day.
If you hear my voice on the cold evening breeze,
Remember the price that we paid for our dreams.

Oh, carry me home.
Lay me down in the green.
Carry me home.
Carry me home.

by 'The Quiet Rebellion'

HILARY WEEKS: Love Your Life

 

ai art by me

Little pieces of love

 

I know... I know...

My children are probably just as guilty as every other kid their age when it comes to spending too much time on their phones. 

But there's one thing I absolutely can't complain about...

My seven-year-old spends her summer days sending me little snapshots of her world while I'm at work.

A picture of a sleepy cat... A silly moment with her siblings... A random little adventure that made her smile.

And every single time my phone buzzes...

My heart smiles too. 

Those little notifications aren't interruptions. They're tiny reminders that even when we're apart, she's thinking about me.

One day these summer breaks will become school days again. Then they'll become jobs, families, and lives of their own.

So for now... I'll happily treasure every blurry picture, every random update, and every little "Mom, look!" that pops onto my screen.

Because someday... I'll probably miss hearing that phone buzz.

Love doesn't always arrive in long conversations.

Sometimes... it arrives as a picture of a cat. 

Carry one. Pass one on.

Source: Pieces of me, By Lyddi on Facebook

ai art by me

The History of Appalachian English

 

The History of Appalachian English-Why We Talk Differently: The Appalachian dialect is an ancient connection to our rich heritage and deserves to be safeguarded and honored. The language we speak is known as Appalachian-English and actually serves as one of the oldest varieties of English spoken in this nation. But why do we speak it and where did this dialect come from?

Like nearly all things related to Appalachia, there is no one clear answer to this question; however, extensive research has been conducted on this very topic for the better part of a century in order to determine why so many of us pronounce words such as “wire,” “fire,” “tire,” and “retired” as “war,” “far,” “tar,” and “retard” respectively.

Appalachian-English also places an “-er” sound at an end of a word with a long “o”. For example, “hollow”— a small, sheltered valley— is pronounced like “holler”. Other examples are “potato” (pronounced “tader”), “tomato” (pronounced “mader”), and “tobacco” (pronounced “backer”). H retention occurs at the beginning of certain words as well. “It”, in particular, is pronounced “hit” at the beginning of a sentence and also when emphasized. The word “ain’t” is pronounced “hain’t”.

But why is it that we speak so uniquely?

The predominate theory is that the existence of Appalachian-English is the result of the isolation the mountains beyond the Blue Ridge ensured — making our dialect one of the most ancient and protected dialects in the nation.

While our high-browed relatives who moved to the big city and lost their accent may frown upon our words and pronunciations, it is believed that the Appalachian dialect is a remnant of Elizabethan English.

An evidence of this is the use of words such as “afeared”, a Shakespearean word that is largely forgotten by most English speakers outside of the Appalachian region.

Interestingly, Appalachian-English has virtually no Native American influences (with the exception being place names, e.g., “Appalachia”, “Tennessee”, “Kanawha”, etc.) while so many other regional dialects in the nation do contain heavy influences from Native Americans. This is noteworthy, as it showcases something we know and realize today — the people who settled this region are not easily influenced by the accents and languages of others, even if they become displaced, Appalachian-English is a hard dialect to lose.

(From Appalachian Magazine)

Source: History of Kentucky on Facebook

Who Am I?

 

Source: Poetry for the Soul on Facebook