I send my voice out until breathless…



There is a mountain

within me

An inheritance

that has now become a polished stone

nestled in flesh,

in blood rich organ


A nameless sadness, it nestles close

real as the moon’s rise,

born within

a pit in the stomach

a seed in the heart


“Take this strange sorrow from me. It is bottomless,” I cry

as I walk up and down

the mourning side of my mountain.


At the top of the mountain

I yodel like a fool…

sounds and sobs issue with spittle and tears

I send my voice out

until breathless


But not spent


In the quieting down

I understand this weight is a broken seam

that can not be healed

It is the rend in the garment

of the turning in and the turning away from.


This broken seam can only be mended

cauterized by the flame that burns

in an open heart



Artist: Johan Christian Dahl  1821