July 14th, 2022
The Body of a Mountain
Slabs of rock.
What appear to be plastered in
place, these towering peaks drizzled
with the abundance of snow
capping the mountain’s head.
So many times, in a single day,
the head ‘lost’ in the clouds.
What are its thoughts?
The face of the mountain
—How does it see?
—Can it hear?
—What does it smell?
—Does it taste?
Looking at the mountain,
I trust its ‘view’ never-ending,
and it waits to hear the morning’s
first songbird preparing the
altar it is.
It hears the sun, like a match lit.
A candle it becomes, manifesting
the mountain in ‘ordinary time.’
It smells the incense of heaven
from which it dwells
and tastes the melting particles of
Often it spills the chalice of
its essence creating an avalanche
to feed the unseen places in the
mountain’s body waiting, waiting, waiting.
The mountain’s shoulders
are broad and stately.
They are doorways from which ‘limbs’
stretch unfolding pathways for those
who place themselves in the mountain’s
There feels what seems an extended
invitation, ‘Come, come to this place…
rest awhile, be still.’
AND, from this tabernacle,
the mountain’s soul.
Although not visible, a pulse beats
—it is not marked in time
—the very ‘measure’ of its essence
unraveled when the first stars collided
and it LIVES in this ballad.
The mountain’s base camp
—its foot stool.
Wildflowers decorate the setting.
The mountain’s service never ends,
but its message becomes clearer and
Its body groans just enough
for me to hear,
“Walk now in peace.”