I listen and watch
the stories unfold
of tragedy and unrest
of the mountains unease.
There is no escaping the
silent truths under
whispered breath –
we are at her mercy.
In the throes of spring
I swim within my own
journey and the resurrection
I undertook with your
hand gently upon my
shoulder and the deep
promises I made while
bathed in the ancient light.
![Spring, Sunday Morning Conversation](https://i0.wp.com/wrpersonalprd.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/2014-04-20-06-48-17.jpg?resize=620%2C413&ssl=1)