Sunday, November 06, 2011

The Mountain

This will be a little hard to enter from my phone... but what better thing is there to do when you are sick at home on The Sabbath?


I came unto a mountain on the straight and narrow way
And thought the Lord would move it, for it did block my way.
I raised my voice on high and when my prayer was through,
Beheld the mountain with a sigh, and knew not what to do.

Perhaps if not to remove it, He wanted me to find,
A way around this mountain, a shortcut to behind.
Up to the foot I walked and looked far left and right,
But found the paths fraught with perils that by now I knew at sight.

There was no going around it, and no whisking it away,
So I started to climb that mountain a little bit each day.
At first I slipped with every step for the path was buried in sand,
But when I sunk my feet down to the bedrock I was sure enough to stand.

Once upon the slopes I could no longer judge or see
How much further up the mountain that was taxing all of me.
Still I knew from trials past, that all trials have an end,
And every trial brings me closer to the Friend at journey's end.

I came unto a place where the path was all hemmed in
By rugged walls unrelenting, a strait way very thin.
I grumbled all the way through it, how narrow was the way,
How a person needed more elbow room, or at least a little say!

Then I looked back and learned, to my gratitude and shame,
While I bemoaned the boundaries, they protected me all the same.
For steeps and slides and dangers did lie on every side,
And the horrors of those dangers those sturdy walls did hide.

So now I trust this path, and up this mountain climb.
I begrudge it not the steepness or the lengthiness of time.
I just climb each day, placing foot, over foot, over hand,
And I've begun to wonder what happens when at the peak I stand.

Do I find a great plateau, or perhaps a downward slide?
Will I find another mountain, to test her already tried?
Do I slide freely down the other side, a brief thrill after my long try,
Or feet planted on the pinnacle, will I mount up and fly?


timpani76 said...

I love this!

Your poetry reads so easy, I know it must have been hard to write ;)

Plus, it is a wonderful metaphor.

Thora said...

Thanks sweetie! Truth is though, some poems write themselves because I need them, and this was one of them. I just had to find my way through the flu haze long enough to get it down.

Chris Taylor said...

Excellent. I love it. Thanks for sharing. :)