Mountain Ghosts
Wander through the Kanisku Mountains
you will feel the breath of ancient spirits
supple and soft as a chamois as it settles
simply, on your shoulders. Whispers to
you as your feet fall soundlessly on a bed
of needles. The sharp smell of pine baked
in the summer sun, the sting in your sole
from an errantly angled spine reminds you
to breathe.
Inhale the bittersweet scent deeply and
remember your birth. Bathe in icy waters
green-blue streams of shock as stark as
the moment you fell from your motherʼs womb
onto the lap of the earth. Your limbs quaking
with an eternal effort, the same repetitious struggle
a gasp.
Songs of the spirits waft through lofty leaves swirl
between succulent ferns and grasses of Kanisku
meadows, sweep past your open ears, lyrics
guide your hands to wild bounty buried beneath
the soil, hidden under decayed flora, brazenly alive,
you breathe
-Cheryl Trelease
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