Faith crisis poetry Uncategorized

Fall of the Mountain

  1. Climbed the mountain one more time, a desert found instead.
  2. Drawing deep from in the well, its water long since dead.
  3. Wand’ring to and running fro, for water and for bread,
  4. Starving, thirsty, seeking with a mouth all cracked and bled.
  5. Compass pointing to the north, and south, and east, and west.
  6. Rhombus—once a square—appears, askew and quite compressed.
  7. Soul and body, once nourished, now nothing to digest
  8. Standing, sitting—kneeling, too—collectively confess.
  9. A grip, a shake, a sign, a name; a swipe across the brow;
  10. A leaf, a cup, an ear, a tree; a drop atop the crown.
  11. Hearken. Yes. A bowing head. Hands up, and then hands down.
  12. Climbing up, and to the core, once smiling, now a frown.
  13. Watching from the valley great the mountain as it falls:
  14. Gold and silver, brass and clay, demolished by a ball.
  15. No warning shout, no sounding trump, no watchmen on the wall.
  16. Like a thief in darkest night, the stealth will shock us all.

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By Kim Siever

Kim Siever is an independent queer journalist based in Lethbridge, Alberta. He writes daily news articles, focusing on politics and labour.

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