The Heart of the Mountain

There is a stream
that flows from the
heart of the mountain
to my heart.

There is a wind
that blows across
her hills into me.

I can stand here
a thousand, thousand
times

and never
feel the
less for it.

She fortifies me
as a sister does,

knowing we share
the same blood,
the same toils,
the same heart.

Knowing we hold
the pain of all
existence

in our hearts;
softening us to
the core.

She takes the
dead and dying
and gives them
a place to give
up their hold

on all they
have known
to be living.

She tenderly turns
their bones into
tendrils and roots
pushing life back
out above her
skin.

There is a stream

that flows from the

heart of the mountain

to my heart.

Ciao!  

TJM+