You pull me into your mystery—
Your cool, damp, pine-needle-littered oasis.
The secret of your mountain top revealed,
Only if I dare to tread there.
With bears, and wolves, and mountain lions.
I long to lie down in your mossy softness—
To breathe the wind that blows through your branches,
Where raindrops fall to drench my thirst…
For scattered, bone-warming sunshine,
For unraveling secrets that haunt my being,
I can let my tears flow deep into your earthen bosom.
The Earth, my Mother, cradles me here.
Restore me, gentle spirit—
It is here that I call home.
Author: Monika Carless
Image: Flickr/Jon Bunting; Author’s own
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina