Poem for my grandma
She's in hospice care. Not gone yet, but that doesn't mean I can't grieve. Look! I have put my obsession with the geology of the Bitterroot Valley into practical use!
Sapphire Mountains
When the hills slid from the mountains,
aching with the pain of separation.
When ancient fell from the grasp
of the young, even as youth
reaches high,
coated in the mica of your passing;
I fall from you
as you fall from me;
falling away across ever-winding rivers;
beyond trees that never die, and
roads that never straighten.
I will see you there glowing in the sunset
with sapphires in your heart.
Sapphire Mountains
When the hills slid from the mountains,
aching with the pain of separation.
When ancient fell from the grasp
of the young, even as youth
reaches high,
coated in the mica of your passing;
I fall from you
as you fall from me;
falling away across ever-winding rivers;
beyond trees that never die, and
roads that never straighten.
I will see you there glowing in the sunset
with sapphires in your heart.