MOVE THAT MOUNTAIN: Dance, Mountain, Dance!!!

I’ve lived mustard seed faith.
God said, "I'M LONELY STILL"
I’ve said, “Move, mountain.” and it moved.
I’ve said,
“MO00000000VE, MOUNTAIN!!!” and it moved.
I'M LONELY STILL
The mountain of gossip.
The mountain of deceit.
The mountain of cheating and lies.
The mountain of impatience and impertinence.
The mountain of being the right color at the wrong time.
The mountain of enemies, spousal abuse and negligence.
The mountain of birth, death, and abortions.
The mountain of all of my sins moved.
THE GREAT WIDE ELM TREE SPREAD IT'S BRANCHES
But after the mountain ranges moved,
there was nothing but empty.
A valley of alone-ness and solitude.
In my mountain free world I discovered
God only meant the mustard seed
to be the starting point;
not the end all, and be all of faith,
not the final parameters
but
the jumping off place.
I took on the challenge and
with the faith of a watermelon seed,
I whispered,
“Dance, mountain, dance.”
The mountain lifted her skirt and began to waltz.
“Dance, mountain, dance!”
The mountain began to Cha-Cha.
It did the Meringue, and the Macarena.
“DANCE, MOUNTAIN, DANCE!!!”
JULY 19,20, CENTRE, FULL HOPE, IRISH 074 (1)
It twisted and shouted, it did the Poney Maroney and the Skate and the Monkey and the Frugue. It Pop-locked into the Robot and C-Walked.
GOD HIMSELF STEPPED DOWN
Just imagine,
me
with the faith
of an avocado seed
shouting,
“SING, MOUNTAIN, SING!”
AS FAR AS THE EYE OF GOD COULD SEE
And me finding my slumber in a mountain lullaby.
Or even me with the faith of a mango seed,
saying,
“Make love to me mountain, make love.”
GOD LOOKED AT ALL THAT HE HAD MADE
Aaaaaaah, the faith of it.
a MAN

(extreme yolanthaism)


Comments

MOVE THAT MOUNTAIN: Dance, Mountain, Dance!!! — 3 Comments

  1. Whew – Bravo – Magnificent – as I read, my mind spun around and danced and by the end of your poem I was exhausted – hadn’t danced that fast in years – last time was when I was a young girl – and in the moments that I read your poem I was reunited with the girl in me who always loved to dance, dance, dance – and fill the air around her with giggles and grown-up laughter – you know the kind where you throw your head back and laugh so loud and hearty that it sounds like a roar – a woman-child roaring – soon I will be fully grown and people will take my dance seriously – they will bow at the end of my dance and toss roses at my feet. Thank you

Leave a Reply