Pepper Trail engages the mythic in this poem of life, death, and self-transformation.
—
Self-Portrait as Mountain
I would, I know, be petrified
at an awkward moment,
body twisted, in surprise or futile escape,
mouth ajar, as if to speak,
but too late.
Rendered in stone and soil and grass and trees
(not tall enough for snow or ice),
I would have a strange look,
be a puzzle for geologists,
riddled with faults, but stable.
Around me, slowly, would gather legends,
Cautionary tales to instruct the young
Once there was a man who –, and then –
And so now — , forever
The details would last a few centuries, then change.
For a time, I would enjoy the lives I carried
The deer and the wildflowers, the weightless ants
But in the end (meaningless word)
I would tire of life and death
Grow cold, be silent, stop.
***
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Photo by James Walsh /Flickr
