Poetry / Sarah Rehfeldt

It has been a long time, Mountain, I have been here.
Where tiny, black pools of light
have blended into soft gray shadows,
I have worshipped:
dark on dark,
wood on wood
(water is heavy).
Half of what belongs to you : the rain.
All mist and hillside : this is how you choose to come here—
not because you must, but because you are willing.
Still, somehow, I knew you’d wait to be discovered;
somehow, distance taking in
whatever needs to be found by it.
(I cannot blame you;
mountains are vulnerable.)
There is a certain kind of beauty in that—
not wanting to know,
wanting to disappear.

originally published in Presence (Volume 20.4, 2014)

Sarah Rehfeldt lives with her family in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains near Issaquah, WA. She is a writer, artist, and photographer. She has poetry published or forthcoming in Appalachia Magazine, Weber, Presence and Kaleidoscope. She was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize in poetry. Sarah is the author of Somewhere South of Pegasus, a collection of image poems.