Thursday, February 12, 2015

What Goes Up Must Come Down


What goes up must come down
The wind whispered in my ear
Whipping my hair around my face
As my feet lightly followed tracks up the mountain
Like the searching, soft kisses of a lover escalating.

I was at the top of Stewart Mountain,
A thin layer of snow slowly
Painting my surroundings cold,
My footsteps were temporary
Paths up the mountain
Melting into it's flesh.

What goes up must come down
Mount Baker seemed to say to me
Blindingly fresh snow covering its head.
Snow that would slowly melt
Into rivers that would flow into the sea,
But not until Spring's warmth,
Like lovers reunited after a long, cold breakup.

The sun was setting over Bellingham,
I waited at the top, knowing
That with no headlamp
I should have left before dark, but
I had to see the sun's
Last intense display of color:
Yellows deepening into orange and red,
A fire that would soon go out on the hills
Like a lover breaking up with his love.

The sun was gone in an instant,
For a sad moment I realized
I still had to go back down,
Alone in the dark, the breeze
Turning into violent gusts, whipping my hair
Pushing me down the mountain,
Me, running back down reluctantly.

The snow had covered my trail
My feet making a new path
In the dark without my light,
I could only hope to find the ground
With each searching footstep

A bat uses echolocation
To produce detailed images
of its surroundings,
I used my legs,  my feet
mapping the ground.
I remembered how I'd gotten
So high in the first place,
In order to get back down.

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