Poem: Red Dirt

i was born in the red dirt

stained by the blood of christ –if you will

a bare-footed bare-bottomed red dirt girl

dancing in the sunset light under the bleeding mountains


the town was nestled between the peaks

nestled intimately in the bosom of some sleeping giant

and wandering the town’s red dirt roads in summer and fall

were all the red dirt children


the red dirt people lived

simple, sensible, practical lives

they were more than a town, they were a tribe

with roots deep in the red soil


life is a simple and sweet circle

the children marry other red dirt children

and bury their parents in the bloody ground

and bring into the world red dirt children of their own


sometimes there are children who don’t belong in the red dirt

i’m a concrete and brick girl now, fingernails clean

and when i walk the paved streets i imagine clouds of red dust rising from the street

staining my boots with a red as deep as the blood of a martyr


by Sarah Kay Moll