There’s A Mountain in the Distance

Photo by daniel plan on Unsplash

There’s A Mountain in the Distance

By Ken LeMarchand

There’s a mountain in the distance
one with a spine shaped like a cat’s cradle.

It’s demure is forebodingly dark
beckoning my quill to speak

yet I’ve forgotten the language of the eart
hits consonants and vowels guttural

as if pressed like an edelweiss petal
between pestle and stone.

All the other birds flock to her
from their cages they’ve flown.

Yet I’m grounded as heavy bone
notched wings & bloodied feather

A felled pellet sack turned weeping angel
never to feel the bosom of her beating heart.

Gaia smiles—oh how she smiles
that wicked stepmother grin

unwilling to relent her sarsen daughter
to the sun nestled below her head. 

So this mocked bird plays a hollow flute
to the sound of her hermetic tears

which form as a river down the valley
where the bardic thrush lends its mournful ears.

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Music by William_King from Pixabay

Author’s Note: I was getting over a bout of bronchitis when I recorded this reading, so please excuse the nasal sound of my voice.