This week cavalcadeofstars presents John Grey
AT THE FOOT OF MOUNT MARCY
Mountains rise above
the shadow of themselves,
draw clouds into their granite webs.
They spill rivers through
their rocky fingers,
grow trees only at the heights
where trees belong,
succor the beasts
that live on them like fleas.
Mountains allow the humming
of our dreams in them.
When we’re loud,
they mock our loudness
to the last snicker of echo.
When we’re silent,
they make that silence huge.
What did the ancient men think
when they first saw the bones of their fathers?
A skeletal heap where last he fell…
did the survivors make the connection?
Where did the idea to bury them come from?
Was it no more than a matter of please,
somebody, I don’t care how you do it
but get this puzzlement out of my sight.
And then one day, someone had the wherewithal
to take a finger bone, open up both ends,
chisel out the marrow, turn it into a flute.
A man could be music…
if the dirt didn’t get to him first.
The giant sunflower lowers its neck,
its golden head no more a gift from the sun
but a burden of gravity.
And we go along with it,
one as we are with the weight of the world,
backs bent, haunches bowed to almost bursting.
What promise in our upbringing,
higher and higher, fuller and fuller.
We were the ladders we pulled ourselves up on.
But we rose to a level where there were no rungs.
And now it’s earth below
and a long torturous landing.
What’s in store, not light, not warmth,
but dust, dust and more dust.
What faces cannot sweep clean,
mouths must feast upon.
BRING IT ON
We keep apart mostly,
But occasionally there’s a wind
and we come together
like two pines in a stand.
Could be just a monetary touch.
Or occasionally a lean,
gentle or, in some cases,
holding the other up.
Other times, a period of closeness
is followed by a full-fledged hug,
two bodies so entwined
you’d think there’s no way they could ever
spring back to their former parallel path.
We keep apart mostly,
longing for that wind.
Australian born poet, works as financial systems analyst. Recently published in Poem,
Caveat Lector, Prism International and the horror anthology, “What Fears Become”
with work upcoming in Potomac Review, Hurricane Review and Pinyon.