Member-only story

A Mountain of Snow

Free Verse

Lark Morrigan
Scribe

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Photo by Martin Masson on Unsplash

My soul holds
a mountain of snow
with ancient faces
and fractured wings of stone —
because the cold
has nowhere else to go.

The mists swirl
around this jagged peak,
and the height of my dreams
cannot be seen —
most days I feel
like a bird without a beak,
too broken for words
I most want to speak.

I carve steps
out of this mountain
because I still cannot fly.

At night,
I fly only in my dreams,
but by day,
my dreams won’t carry me.

What is at the peak of my soul?

Even time does not know
what is buried
at the top
of this mountain of snow.

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