Always Here

I meet myself again
all the times we (all my ‘I’s)
have walked these paths,

My fif­teen years here
is mocked
by fif­teen mil­lion years of rock.

The trees laugh
and dig deeper for water.

The wind, as ephemeral as I am,
rushes through dis­tant peaks,
and brushes closer pines,
and finally whis­pers past my cheek.

Pip’ Pip’ Pip’
one lone bird
flies between the pines.

All the ‘me’s that have ever been here
are cross­ing paths with me-now,
and those to come.
The hills are laced thick with my footsteps.

My tears and laugh­ter,
the piney, acrid smell of my camp­fires,
the shin­ing grasses and sparkling stars,
the rain, the creeks,
the rocks and moun­tains,
flow­ers, songs, hum­ming­birds,
bees and breezes,
sur­round me now.

We are always here
some part of all those ‘me’s
always here.

soft

Text © 1997 Denise Schultz
Photo © 2010 Annette Deyhle - Denise with Grand­mother Goat

soft

This poem is my favorite, even still.  It is about my favorite place on the planet, which I hope to see in about a month, after not hav­ing seen it for over ten years.

I’ll post pic­tures as they become available.

[Update 5.28.10 — well it took me 8 months, and it had been 13 years, but I made it!

Oh!  Joy!  As when the world was new! ]

Dona­tions and con­nec­tions from the many to each other,
in even a tiny way, can cre­ate big shifts.