Mountain Father’s Story

I rose from the Seas.
There are combed, tired lines
Yester years writ on my face.

For you, my child:

I withstood, the eerie moans of the wind,
Ignored the lashes of the rain, endured pain
Of tectonic shifts.

To entertain you:
I caressed the dark clouds with my cheeks so brown,
As they nudged past mischievously in slowness march,
As you sat on my shoulder and laughed at the overcast array,
I seized them icicles in my hands, tickled your skin with their spray,
The dark, angry cloud maidens loosened their tresses at us,
Across our faces, darker red nay crimson, all over, gross
Together, we heard then the drums of the clouds bash
I turned green and blue as you wavered , in frolic or anxious fun
In a flash, there was a gush down my shoulders in a rivulet rush that scared you
You panicked, tired oscillated between hope and fear.
I indicated to you that I am rock steady.
I stored the water at my feet so that you may drink in my fountains,
Let you rest on my lap, asked the waterfalls to trickle in symphony.

In the morning,
I held you up in my hands so that you could see-
The Sun rise from the blades of my shoulders,
How the lights glow on the sheen of my coarse, rocky, hide,
The sun’s arrows reflect off my armour in rainbow hues so soft,
At dusk , the sun waved to retire , rest between my broad shoulders,
Then to cheer you I had the moon touch my crest and beyond me the stars.

You grew:
I heard the powered bulldozers;
You did what the Sea could not:
You awed me with your vindictive force.

I acknowledge –
I am dispensable
For the environment.


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