The mountains hug forgotten ones
Souls known in gestures centuries old.
Wonderfully wild and high enough
where clouds can wet their tears and soften edges
All in breathless upward climb in rhythm find
a peaceful soul
and a memory, union sweet.
Then falling down in gasps of fear darker turns and twists
My footing gone
the mountain moves
in outward reach
startled wakened in a scream
yet i lay me down again
a soul to keep
from terror ends
finding morning’s choir of love
hymns of peace
with eyes of God.
photography alexander yakovlev
Bone chilled cold
feeling the force of the day mid winter
I apologize to those tall and green
standing alone with promises of spring
I don’t know their grain within
holding promises that warm
resisting the frozen cover of ice and snow.
I always remember my dreams. They reset and reframe the truth lying just underneath my daily life and struggles.
In anticipation of 2017, my sleep brought the terror of a whirlwind. Being swept away by the forces of nature, I woke distressed to say the least. This unsettled mood lasted through the last day of 2016.
I woke this am, however, on a journey abroad in the company of family and strangers . I was advising others on how to pack but also reorganizing my own bag.
Perhaps I am ready to move on.
Lock the door on your way out.