Just came across this in going through my journal. I wrote it in Santa Fe, New Mexico, this past November, on my trip from the East Coast to San Diego. I could share all the circumstances that led to it, but I think it's best if I just let it stand on its own. The photo was taken a short while before I wrote it.
"Altitude"
I cannot tell you
How I was led to this place
The call of the mountain
The arms of grace
Embraced by a warm fire
Burning in the pure, cold air
Cleansing and tempering
The space within me
My gums ache
The muscles in my arms hurt
My tongue is constrained
But here I am free
The happy shouts of the children
Point the way back to myself
This dizzy altered state
Will soon yield to something else
But I will never lose
The fruits of what happened here
They are etched into my very marrow
Like ancient drawings into stone
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"Altitude"
I cannot tell you
How I was led to this place
The call of the mountain
The arms of grace
Embraced by a warm fire
Burning in the pure, cold air
Cleansing and tempering
The space within me
My gums ache
The muscles in my arms hurt
My tongue is constrained
But here I am free
The happy shouts of the children
Point the way back to myself
This dizzy altered state
Will soon yield to something else
But I will never lose
The fruits of what happened here
They are etched into my very marrow
Like ancient drawings into stone
Share |
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