THE MOUNTAINS OF THE MOON

We leave the bay, I, looking back,

at the green green living island that I love:

rounded hills humped under wisps of cloud,

looking like misty Mountains of the Moon;

jellyfish bubbling eerily among raindrops in the bay,

eagle hunch-shouldered in the rain,

the wake behind the boat marking the distance

I am forced to travel, again and yet again,

away from the place where I the most belong,

my eyes loving each tree, each hill,

each bird along the way,

my heart singing its farewell-till-next-time song.

This is the landscape of my soul,

where my spirit dwells, but I no longer live.

In my life, what I most want to

for forever keep,

the Universe always asks me one thing: Give.

There and away, there and away I go,

taking with me every golden moment,

for I know

they have to last me till another day.
I gave my heart.

This is the price I pay.

I live in a grey little valley,

antechamber of Paradise,

as close as I can get
to where my spirit flies.

My heart, forever lifting through the pass

to my beloved beach,
yearns up and out the other side,

beyond the mountain's reach.

In my heart, as nuts for a winter squirrel,
I store all there has been,

to bring out when the visits

grow fewer and far between:

a rounded hump of mountain,

misty cloud and fallen log,

an eagle soaring skywards,

a beloved big black dog.

My eyes follow the eagle 

in his free and joyous flight;
my soul tramps endless beaches

in my dreams
night after night.

I am forever driving away

from everything I love,

yet my lesson is to remember
all the blessings life's made of:

I am forever driving towards

something I love as well:

that glorious sweep of waves rushing to shore,

how my heart comes home in the place

that opened my soul's door,

that home I spent my whole life

looking for.

My heart waited a lonely lifetime

for happiness to begin,

for wolf and sea

to find the waiting chambers of my heart

and move right in.

Now, rich in love,

it has much with which

to fill those empty rooms:

my ocean-spirit place,

the memory of a wolfish face,

my weary heart,

making its evolutionary journey,

past all my losses' tombs.

for Susan's Midweek Motif prompt at  Poets United, which will post Wednesday morning, early: Mountain. Do join us for some wonderful responses.