I know that you
might not accept it,
but this steel grey sky
isn’t going to compromise.
It’s just going to rain
until it gets dark,
very dark.
The kind of dark
that only lets the street lights
throw shadows
and burn dimly.
Soaking up the light,
an endless, drowned holocaust.
Faith can move a mountain,
but why the heck
would anyone want to?
You can go through it,
or over it,
or around;
if faith is so powerful,
then can’t it be used elsewhere?
Maybe that’s all it’s good for;
shifting the blue crag peaks
this way and that,
wherever we need them,
like some strange superpower;
impressive,
but not very practical.
Here comes the rain
and now,
I really miss those mountains.
I miss the feeling
of being surrounded
by sentinels.
Safety in the foundations,
in the fundamentals,
in the peaks and forests
that raised me.
We can wish the sky
were not rain grey
and there were more mountains,
but our safety these days
is in our own hands.
it always was.
Our destiny,
invariably intermingled
with the warp and weft
of our reality.
Our superpower
isn’t moving mountains;
it’s adaptability.
So let’s sit here
and see if we can make
the mountains come to us.
HG – 2018
