The Mountain and the Flow – A Poem

I’ve been here before.

The mountain looms in front of me

and I can see the jagged rocks,

the outcropping of edges and crevices,

rockfaces that hold challenges

that I have yet to face.

I stand before the mountain,

awed by its size,

fearful of the journey ahead of me.

From the top of the mountain,

a flow of water slides

down the rockface,

finding a path through a terrain

that has not been kind to me.

I marvel at how the flow of my emotions

have found a path so easily

within the rocks of the mountain

when I must struggle to find my way.

I stare upwards and the sun glints

off of the rockface

and I have to shield my eyes.

Looking at the mountain,

I feel a sense of determination

run through me and I wonder

if that emotion is reflected

in the flow of water

coming down from the mountain.

I watch as an eagle flies

in the blue sky above me and,

for a moment,

I can see myself standing on top

of this mountain, so much like

all the other rock faces

that I’ve had to climb before.

I know that eventually I

will reach the top

of this mountain, too.

I’ve got this, I think.

I’ve done this before

and I will do this again.

I reach forward

and let the flow of water

run over my fingers

and listen to what it

has to tell me.

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