You hold many
in icy folds
Old and young
frozen in
limb and boot;
anguish, surprise
locked for time
Those who conquer
rejoice;
those who fail
you keep
Your stone face
betrays no emotion
Axe or rope
will be of no use
when my face
darkens
2 thoughts on “A Mountain’s Hold”
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Too true, Dean – and then you fall off the edge.
Poetry is a hill which becomes mountain when you start the ascent!