The Heart of Arenal: A Prose Poem
2nd Saturday prompt: volcanoes, real or metaphorical
The road turns, and she comes into view, rising above the landscape as a singular undaunted monolithic presence. Her shoulders hold aloft their downward slope with equal measures of elegance and self-assuredness. The Arenal Volcano in Costa Rica hasn’t erupted in over a decade, but that fact does not take away from the imperiousness that belies her unpredictable outbursts in preceding times.
I am used to seeing mountains that belong to ranges, their ridges forming layers, breaking up the horizon in lazy drawls arcing as far as my eyes can follow. Arenal is different. Arenal is solitary, standing alone like a woman challenged, standing tall like a woman that won’t give in, standing aloft with her head held high. There are no ridges anywhere around, she stands tall but alone, no clutter breaking up my direct view of her form. It’s like she’s chosen to do away with anything that might act as a shield, exposing herself in all her nakedness. It’s like she’s thrown away all visible masks to fear, braving the winds and the sun and all the eyes that look at her, searching for her soul, searching for their own too. Searching, searching for the lost souls that they misplaced somewhere along life’s trails.
