The Voice

The Voice

the voice of the mountain
is not in the wind, though it falls mightily upon
the face of the rock
nor is the voice of the mountain in
the shattering of boulders
as they splinter and crash with force to
echo across the valley

the voice on the mountain
is in a quiet knowing
a gentle, near fleeting mark
pressed into the spirit
bearing witness in the midst of the mountain’s power

the voice of the mountain need not shout:
here I stand
and will not be moved
see how I remain
though Nature throw all her force upon me
though I am scarred and grooved, ratcheted and chunked
by wind, ice and rain

here I will stay
until all eyes are lifted up

the voice on the mountain
nourishes like a stream that emerges between a gap in the rock
whose source cannot be detected
originates from a unknown place
secret and deep

the voice of the mountain is a single voice
but behind the mountain, a mountain
and behind that mountain still another
and beyond those, more:
a cantata, a whole range of voices
announcing to the creation

the voice on the mountain
is the voice of
God

© 2009 andrew kooman

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