The mountains whisper to me,
An invitation to look up,
But it’s not the rock, trees
And flora that bring me focus.
The knowledge of Another
Who stretches through creation to
Wrest my attention, lifts me beyond
The highest peak, showing—
Like a little child exploring the creases
Of an old man’s face—
The knowledge of an ancient place.
Alleluia, for God has told me
I am broken,
And mended; in the time
It takes a humming bird
To flap it’s wing.
I have strained my ears to listen
For the sound of truth
Amidst chaos,
The sound of grace
Amidst punishment.
The sound of joy
Amidst mundane.
The mountains lift my eyes
On this elevated plain,
And all at once
I feel alive because I see
What my senses cannot conceive;
Invisible wonder, turned granite sheets.