Sunday, 1 April 2012

listening (an entry to the RMOW poetry competition)

sit quiet and hear it:
the mountains are ours if we want them (but not to own them)
a cut away from the sky to keep from clear days,
a breath to hold if they hide behind the clouds.

sit quiet and hear it:
you, yourself might be a rock (if you are still and say nothing)
held dark and silent in your mind
a piece of earth, a piece of mountain.

but, sit quiet and hear it:
your breath (makes you human no matter your serenity)
as you take in piece by piece,
and your mouth is filled with breaths that taste of rock and stone.

sit quiet to hear it, and be sure.

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