“Mountain” (Poem)

See yonder, the mountain of buried things
That grew beneath your child tears
Can you recall? Still, records play;
Notes sound through cliffs devoid of ears

Beneath this ground, packed all about,
Lay the things that you once loved and knew,
The things that you’ve long done without
Beliefs that you shed piece-by-piece.

Has your trip been that long?
Have the years been that mean?
Oh, why did you leave?
And where have you been?

You don’t remember? Won’t you speak?
The watching world has plainly seen
That echo of You–it’s all they need
To puzzle out where You have been!

Hilltops of heart you abandoned to waste
Grew taller than you, all timbered with green
The bushes you trimmed, the flowers you placed–
Like a smile, they hide this great mountain of shame

You return to the mountain, lured by a sound
From all those cold memories under the sod:
How in fear and in doubt, you fled from the ground
Of that mountain of shelter: your great stone god

Shovel strikes pebbles, but conjures old fears
To dig? You don’t even know where you’d begin!
No, you cannot revive what you once chose to kill;
Illusion remains. Let the dark mountain win!

A second time, now, you quit this place,
Leave imprisoned tears to fester.
The mountain drinks; its twisted face
Is drooling bloody echoes of You.

That boy, in shame, who tried to die
Is weeping now with cries anew:
The soil you left to multiply
Consumes the weeping both of You

Tight ’round your wrists and ankles fast
The mountain roots reach out and grasp.
Your journey ends! You can’t depart
The mountain of your buried heart.

~

Years have passed.
The mountain’s gone.
Your kinsfolk sigh:
Relief; move on.
They mourned for you,
Your buried tears–
But marveled at
Your aimless years

Lost hope keeping their patience true,
Long parted by that mountain.
Those kinsfolk never truly knew
How much you missed Yourself.