The Pull of the Andes
In the
Andes, there resides a pulling—
And almost crushing
sensation of its presence
All around you, as if
they are awakening:
Yawning, all day and
night long, to give life
Into their ever
expanding ribs, and lungs:
Taking your breath
away, with its draw;
They are not so
unlike the immensity
Of those long lost Titans,
of yesteryear
The children of the
old gods!
Thus, these mountains
suck the sky near to its surface
Pull, everything
within them: valley, gorges, ravines
And crevasses,
fissures, and caves,
Waterfalls, streams,
and rivers—
Yank, within their
atoms and molecules, rock and
Hydrogen, Helium, and
forever growing foliage
Yank them to their
bosom, and you with them!
Yank one’s cells and
genes, man’s whole DNA,
Every-which-way,
until it becomes compressed,
Oppressed, weak and
lean, and submissive—
And you ask: “What am
I doing here?”
And one must listen
to the sierras reply:
“Waste no more time
to understand, you need
Simply breathe deeply,
look into our sardonic
Eyes, we are like
you: God’s design.”
No: 12-17-2008/ No: 2532
