A small place. A large place.
Where I do not fit but have landed,
we are small and large at once, or so I’ve read.
Our being is and is and is, or so it said.
Here, in a nook of the trembling landscape
where hills push up and back, away from
the crying ocean whose breath is wind,
She looks to her older Rocky cousins.
But it is no less, the Mystery here,
than in those high, sparse places in the biting east.
Lush green and primordial, but eternally young,
somehow, too. She sings.
The Beastly Mound, thing of hunched shoulders
settled into nightly mist and clothed with
weeping cedar and fir, gathering air and memory.
The Low-High Place: Neah-Kah-Nie.
She sings, absolutely, and inspires poets to open our hearts and join in the songs. Thank you Logan for harmonizing with Mystery!
Thank you kindly, Watt, for the opportunity to create and to share! “Harmonizing with Mystery”…this phrase says it all. Cheers to you.
Thank you, Logan, for your poem. It does the mountain justice, giving it a sense of place and size, while keeping it unique; for it is in a special setting of grandeur and mystery. It is a “trembling landscape” of its own as you intimate, and I feel closer to the “Beastly Mound” having read your words.
I so appreciate these kind words, thank you Darrell. Very glad to hear from a reader that they have some impact. I love what one poem can do differently to and for each person reading it.