It’s the same mountain again…
The same horizon, the same shadow,
The same interplay of earth tones.
I’ve been here before,
But this time the path is marked,
The stumps are leveled,
The roots and vines are cleared.
Should I add guard rails?
Put in a water station?
Or maybe line the way
With violets, lavender, and wisteria?
Why am I here again?
I see things differently,
Know things differently,
Say things differently.
I’m not Mohammed,
So the mountain isn’t following me.
Should I change my perspective to see a molehill?
Why hasn’t my faith moved this mountain?
Weary, worn, and battered,
I’ve come to this mountain again…
What am I missing behind the mountain?
Why can’t I get beyond this mountain?