Prose from the Mountain

It was dark,
and the darkness was long and cold.
Stars peppered the night sky with distant points of light,
their warm life far too far away to ease our suffering.
Wind,
steady and strong,
poured over the frozen earth,
enveloping us in the cold and empty night,
pulling from us the last warmth of our wilting bodies.
We were alone,
save for ourselves,
tied to one another as fish hooked on a long line,
dying at sea…

3 thoughts on “Prose from the Mountain

  1. This is a really lovely poem, Kari. On the surface, it is melancholy and somewhat forlorn, but for those of us who have been on mountains and spent nights in unpleasant conditions, it is accurate, and in what might be a macabre irony, beautiful.

    What always gets me about outdoor experiences like you describe is that our hindsight is always wearing rose-colored glasses, and we only remember the excitement of being “out there,” wherever our own “out there” is.

    Cheers,
    Greg

  2. Beautifully said! I have spent those nights in the mountains and they are difficult, but better than any others. After reading your peom I felt like I was on that adventure too.

  3. Your ability to express the nights on a mountaintop in the winter are incredible, exacting and true. Thanks for putting into words what I’ve only been able to think about. Beautiful!

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