The Place I Yelled God’s Name

Some people are born in the arms of heaven—

cradled by the Blue Ridge, kissed by mist,

where stars aren’t swallowed by city light

and air tastes like it’s never been sinned against.

I’ve only ever borrowed that life.

A week here. A weekend there.

A rented cabin. A passing prayer.

But oh, how my soul remembers

what my zip code forgets.

I once screamed into those ridges—

not from pain,

but from something holier than joy.

My husband stood beside me, silent,

until I asked,

"Wanna scream, too?"

Because how is it fair

that beauty like this isn’t handed out equally?

That some people live inside the painting

while the rest of us just frame it in our minds?

I’m jealous, yes—

of the ones who wake to that stillness,

who know the song of fog at sunrise,

who get to call that view their Tuesday.

I think God lives there.

Or maybe He leaves love notes in the trees—

and those who live in the mountains

just find them first.

Someday, I won’t just visit.

Someday, those hills will know my name.

But for now, I write it in the wind

and let it echo between the pines—

my quiet way of saying:

please save me a place.

Author’s Note

This poem was inspired by a prompt from my Threads poetry community. The incredible @aloradayepoetry asked us to write about jealousy or envy, and I didn’t think I had anything to say. I don’t usually consider myself envious. That is, until I started talking to @elliehoovs—who’s also on Vocal.

She had replied to a thread about where we write from and mentioned that she lives near the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Cue my heart lurching.

I love those mountains. I don’t live there—but every time I visit, something inside me quiets and wakes up all at once. The air is different. The stars are visible. The silence is sacred. And suddenly, I realized: maybe I am jealous. Not in a bitter way—but in a longing way. A “maybe that’s where I’m meant to be” kind of way.

Funny how a simple prompt and a short reply brought me back to the place my heart hasn’t stopped calling home.

Thank you for reading. And if you’ve ever felt this way about a place, I’d love to hear about it in the comments. 💙