A Summer Storm
I said, “Young man this is your mountain top.”
Weather rough, it stills and stops the heart.
To breathe and face our new fears, “let’s climb.”
One foot up and then the next; the climb starts,
goal in mind, eyes set on the peak above,
I know you’re young and not my son to guide
But up we climb against the tide of time
The threat of a thunderous sky surrounds,
the branches break with similar cracks.
A foot above, a foot toward the daylight.
Away you went into the thickest brush
I thought you might in need of help return
(As I slipped over wet stones, struggling with
the heavy weight imposed upon my back:
some books, some clothes, to make the road longer)
but you flew ahead without faltering.
We approached the crest several times
As each new height revealed another new height
Across white stone, through a golden valley,
we climbed again; and atop the last peak
a house, a camp, a lonely stick, alone.
Into the ground buried in rock, it stood.
A monument to some forgotten myths,
as if, the world was better left behind
We looked back over the valley seeing home,
and then descended down a new road.
*This was an assignment for my poetry class. I had to do a Blank Verse Monologue so I wrote this for my nephew Erik Michel Jaimes about a hike we did during a freak thunderstorm this Summer in Big Bear.
