I by far am the happiest I can be when I am in the mountains. The fresh air. The cool temperatures. The sun, wind, rain and snow. The high elevation. The views. The space. The skiing, climbing, cycling, hiking and camping. All of that feeds me. Feeds my body. Shaping me and it. Forging me into the person I love to be. This poem series is about that transformation. About my body,… Read More
This time, the book I will be talking about is Wild Winds, Adventures in the High Andes, written by Ed Darack. I came upon this book from a friend. She was finishing her service and was getting rid of some of her non-essential items. She saw the book and figured I might like it. So she gifted it to me. Wild Winds is about a mountaineer and photographer (Darack) and his passion for photographing… Read More
En la valle mis pulmones son llenos con polvo, En la montañas respiro aire fresco. En la valle los autos me dominan, En las montañas camino sin temor. En la valle aprendo como aspirante, En las montañas trabajo como voluntario. Uno es mejor que otro, Pero en los dos lugares lindos, Vivo agradaciemente.
The flatland has mountains too. You just can’t see them, you can only feel them. The mountains, they come in waves. Sometimes nonstop, other times not so much. Very rarely are they quiet, the mountains. Sometimes a low drone, other times a screaming whine. They, the mountains, are always cold and rarely warm. Sometimes chilling to the bone, other times cooling sweat. The flatland has mountains too, I say. You just can’t… Read More
From up on high, the ascendants cry, of happiness and truth, here they are young as youth. All is temporary, they cannot be stationary. Descend, the ascendants of the peak. From down below, the descendants search, yearning for that heavenly perch. Upward, their gaze to the sky, longing to give another hearty cry.