The Things I Thought I Left Behind


Have now become mountains in their own time

Here in the night
I stand at the top of the world
the mountain beneath me
no longer the behemoth
that it appeared in the light
the stark emptiness
of the climb in daylight
now just distant echoes
fading into the depths
of the weeping clouds
that are retreating
into the corners of darkness
stars are threaded
through every inch of the night
and invisible
the listening trees
sing softly in the shadows

I am drifting
and drowning
and drifting again
so far above it all
so close to the sky
so far from the sea
my fears unseen
speak to me in tongues
I cannot name
nor comprehend
what would it feel like
to fall?
to fall
from these lofty heights?
through the cold
wet air
that surrounds me

I feel my breath
labouring
in the thin atmosphere
and the ground shudders
beneath my feet
or is it me?
me that trembles so?
or perhaps
it is the echoes
of the echoes of memories
carried to me
upon the soft winds
and the hushed whispers
of this tranquil place?
in the dissonant beauty
of this moment in time
it seems that the things
I thought I left behind
have now become mountains
in their own time
© Ann Bagnall

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