Rock River

 

 

Once again, my pilgrimage
North to my ancient Grandmother,
that jagged mountain so old
Her power infuses everything.
But this is October, and the people are here,
everywhere, joyously gobbling up
the brilliant Autumn colors with their eyes.
I cannot even get near!
And then the thought, to a way much lower,
closer to Her deep roots,
closer to She who leads us so deep into the Earth.
As I venture around, unknowing,
She reveals this much to me:
for Her, the giant boulders
are Her toys, Her playthings.
Monumental stones are here,
which She has tossed gaily in a fit of joy.
My son once said, "Mom, a Rock River."
Here She has floated the giant stones
all in a tumble down Her beautiful sides.
Streams run with music as they splash among the rocks.
All of this Her terrain, Her birthplace, Her legacy!
Here at the very lowest, She has left us a trace,
a history of Her energy and might,
many-ton boulders strewn across the mountain
where She tossed them for us to see.

Annelinde Metzner

October 19, 2022

 

 

A Rock River