Image: Mountain © Olena Danylovych
Author: Olena Danylovych
Is this a mountain that I see before me?
So vast and powerful its face.
It rises from the earth below me,
Cemented in history’s trace.
In summer when the weather’s fair,
It flourishes with life and leaf.
In winter when its front is bare,
It stands resistant to insidious grief.
Sunshine and blue sky are best
For mirthful and sweet disposition,
But earthquake is the final test
Of mountains’ sturdy disposition.
In shrieking gales and howling rain,
When lightning splinters our soft core,
The mountains stand to entertain
This bleating that they’ve heard before.
The solid stump is evidence
Of many centuries of pain endured.
Yet sharp and creviced stony peaks
Attest to readiness for more.
But rains will end and sunshine come
And hardened face will turn from stone.
And tender greens will whisper out,
Breathing new life to hardened bone.
While frozen evils strike the land,
And petrify each living thing,
The inner stump will surely stand,
Awaiting warmth for flowering.
It’s no small wonder, then, to turn
To these great palaces of rock;
Through times of ravages and mourn,
And other feats of absent luck,
They’ll shed like feathers their adorn,
And still maintain their stalwart stock.