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July 2009 
The Bookends of my Life
Posted on May 31st, 2009
by 
michaelsits
michaelsits
The Bookends of my Life
Sitting is good,
I like to sit.
Here on the mountain,
With lush green trees and plants.
I am at Home,
More so than my home.
They are my friends,
The Ones I know.
The beaten-up dirt path,
That winds it way from,
The Temple to The Church,
The bookends of my life.
The stairs i do not climb.
The graves i do not observe.
The women in their visors and long sleeves,
That pass without notice.
I have fallen in love,
Here on this mountain.
We share a vision of,
What was and what can be.
The dead bark covered in green moss,
Layers of my skin shed.
Both nourish the soil,
And connects us in a physical way.
I know it will end,
My time with this mountain,
The green trees and plants,
And the mountain itself.
Time cleanses and re-cleanses,
We are just food for the future.
The fallen pine needles cushion my steps,
I will someday serve this Earth as well.
Sitting is good,
I like to sit.
Here on the mountain,
With lush green trees and plants.
I am at Home,
More so than my home.
They are my friends,
The Ones I know.
The beaten-up dirt path,
That winds it way from,
The Temple to The Church,
The bookends of my life.
The stairs i do not climb.
The graves i do not observe.
The women in their visors and long sleeves,
That pass without notice.
I have fallen in love,
Here on this mountain.
We share a vision of,
What was and what can be.
The dead bark covered in green moss,
Layers of my skin shed.
Both nourish the soil,
And connects us in a physical way.
I know it will end,
My time with this mountain,
The green trees and plants,
And the mountain itself.
Time cleanses and re-cleanses,
We are just food for the future.
The fallen pine needles cushion my steps,
I will someday serve this Earth as well.
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It feels as if we're sitting on the mountain alongside you. Beautiful pine needles cushioning our feet, the moss, the shedding. How lovely, Michael!
Thanks Kathy. I didn't think i was able to convey the feeling i was experiencing. Glad it happened.
I have to say, it rarely feels like i am sitting there alone:)
Peace,
michael
beautiful mountain. beautiful poem!