A mountain keeps all secrets –
whatever stream or runoff carries stays here,
where ground is moist and shade is ample –
it seeps tangled
down through underlying rock and soil
into black stillness.
The way the wind moves in like water –
it will shelter deep and bury
twist and pile
into what folded
layer into layer.
To risk darkness –
To see light through it –
To make from this wilderness something to belong to –
This was done
to be alone.
Words and image by Sarah Rehfeldt. Please do not copy without my permission.
Poem published in Blueline, vol. 38 (2017);
Reprinted with image in Tipton Poetry Journal, no 34 (Summer 2017).