Mountain Heartbeat

I am the Spirit of the Mountains;

I am She who walks with the Wind.

 

I am the great puma on silent feet,

observing unseen on rock ledges.

I am the she-bear with cubs

who pauses, sniffing the breeze.

 

Man hears my call,

 but does not know Me;

Man senses my heartbeat,

but does not respond to Me.

 

I am the blinding blizzard,

the avalanche and the ice storm.

I am the high country tundra,

fragile carpet of jewel-like flowers.

I am the crystalline rock face;

I am the igneous remnant of a volcano's molten blood.

 

Call me Grandmother Spirit of

Wolf Medicine, "La Loba";

Wolf walks here no more, but I do.

Come sit by my fire, if you dare,

and I will teach you my forgotten ways.

 

Run on my high plains,

gallop my wind trails

 and walk my deep forests;

leap rock to rock in rushing mountain streams.

 

I am the piercing hawk wind of winter,

whistling in frozen pines like distant thunder.

I am the Wild Heart of the Rockies.

I will beat with you, O Human creature,

but not for you.

 

Hear Me, run with Me, honor Me.

I am the Spirit of the Mountains;

I am She who walks with the Wind.

© Copyright Francesca C. Howell,  Ouray, CO 1995