Riding those switchbacks
Up towards Tazewell,
Lost,
I felt like a seasick sailor
On a tossing ship
Who couldn't open his eyes due to fear.
My brother was at the wheel,
Concentrating and serene like a Buddha.
Down below
Were thousand foot dropoffs at every turn
And misty valleys
With alien, little farms.
The road slithered up the spine of a nameless Virginia mountain
That reared it's head like a menacing cobra
About to strike.
I uttered prayers to the Lord
To get us out of this hostile land,
Away somehow, please God.
Then we topped the crest of a switchback
And far below was sunshine and a speck of community.
I was still alive.
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