To know him on my mountain top
face to face, lonely granite peak
point where heaven touches earth
still wind whispers, parts the veil
eyes piercing see. My loyal horse
waits below, grazes green grass
planted there, his reins and bridle
trailing, leather burden saddle lite
my soul kneels, humble, broken
mercy, desire’s friend, love inclined
lone lacking incompetent, battered
stone altar, sincere supplicating as
He comforts, His voice embraces me.
© Jan G. Otterstrom F.
July 1, 2014