This poem was inspired by something I read once that I never forgot. How did the first mountain feel when it was seen for the first time? And as the poem took shape, I began to see a connection forming between the mountain and the human spirit.
Our core longing is to be seen and known – to have our inner self be intimately known and loved. To be seen is to sing the song of the mountain.
For the unseen ones… this is for you.
“Without your wound, where would your power be? It is your very remorse that makes your low voice tremble into the hearts of men. The very angels themselves cannot persuade the wretched and blundering children of earth as can one human being broken on the wheels of living. In Love’s service, only the wounded soldiers can serve.”
I remember a kitchen. It was a big, plain kitchen with a long, plain table. Cupboards lined one of the yellow walls. It was a pale, watered-down yellow that faded into the yellow linoleum. An old black stove with a shelf along the back stood stoutly along one wall, with a percolator of coffee on one burner, the gas flame flickering underneath. It was a kitchen that would never win likes on Instagram. But there was a feeling in that kitchen that no perfectly staged picture could ever capture.