Like Wood Under the Axe
Amongst the passes high, in mountains reaching for the sky
boulders line the path, drear storms darken the vast
open upon the range, a heavy rain
drench the body, chill the soul
waylay upon an opening, a cave in which to shelter
darkness dives deep inside the way, mind craves
a fire to fight against the cold, the dark and the wet
but alas, all is stone, in a mountain honed by tremors
awaiting day, in cold ill lit caves
the motions begin to take
earth begins to quake, to shake from the core
stone splits like wood under the axe,
it is time to dash from the hole before it closes
under the side, a slide of a mountain sheared
by forces primordial, frothing earth dances
laying disheveled is state, body beaten by a ride
when the earth, it did erupt, into a smoky sky
red light blinding, heat blistering the ground
awaken below, in a bed
the range is wrought down
in destruction with a crown
to sleep for a day
then on into the night
never wake until
the smoke is out of sight.
1/31/22 – Andy McRae
RadioactivePoetry 