Walking With the Elders

Inspired by the 3,800 acres of the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest. High in the Great Smoky Mountains, east of Asheville, North Carolina, it’s one of the largest stands of old-growth trees east of the Mississippi. The yellow poplar, oak, basswood, beech, and sycamore run as old as 400 years and as fat as 20 feet around.

My head is back, my eyes are open,
Looking in a line unbroken
Up to where the leaves are waving,
Half the way from here to heaven,
Walking with the elders
On a Carolina mountainside.
I’m walking with the elders,
And their arms are open wide.

Long before the dawn of science,
God begot a race of giants.
Cut to clear, cut to timber,
Hidden here, a few have lingered.
Walking with the elders
On a Carolina mountainside.
I’m walking with the elders,
And they will not be denied.

Carry on a conversation
With an ancient generation.
Though I cannot speak the language,
Still my soul can understand it.

Plant a tree, seed a forest.
Praise the ones that come before us.
They will see the changing seasons,
When I’m in the ground beneath them.
Walking with the elders
On a Carolina mountainside.
I’m walking with the elders,
And the elders will abide.

Words and music © 1999 by Steve Brooks and Frog Records
(512) 440-7668
[email protected]
www.stevebrooks.net

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