PERSON Poem: Of Mountains and Rivers, by Stella Rhame

I loved something wild,
something that knew the secrets
whispered through the winds,
that spoke of forgotten times,
of untamed lives lived long ago.
When the earth and trees stretched soundlessly in snow,
and in the soil, there was a piece of her bound to grow,
buried in a time long before this one.
Oh, she’s known something lawless,
something that calls her for more
than what humanity has decided it is
molded for.
And so, she will leave this town
the second she gets the chance.
I’ve loved someone untamed,
someone whose spirit runs like the rivers,
whose soul recognizes the same voices that speak to me,
telling me to run, to hide, to escape
from this noise, to find peace in the silence.
I’ve known someone
who hears and sees
life
through my eyes.
But now I must realize,
someday,
she will wander too far off,
and the rivers will
be the only thing I am left with.
Her footprints will fade into mountains,
and I will have to sit at the base
and wonder if it was really her who had left them.
Someday, her words will dry like ink,
and the distance between us will grow too vast,
but I know—given the chance—
I would run too.
Because she made me wild,
showed me the restless fire bound to ignite in our hearts,
how we never understood the ease with which others stay,
how we questioned those who didn’t have this primitive ache for more,
who couldn’t feel the pull of the mountains,
the rivers, the sky.
Those who were unable to yearn
for anything else besides brick houses
and family dinners.
God, our conversations were filled with past lives, soul ties,
and the fire that burns at the edge of our feet—
a fire that has taught us we were never once weak,
and that it’s been in our hearts since the day
we breathed air that was clear.
But now it has spread
throughout our entire bodies,
and it is telling us
to run.
And I know that we will.
Someday, I know I’ll have to watch her escape
this place we both swore we would never come back to,
because it was I who chose to love someone
as wild
and as covetous as myself.
I was always someone who knew more,
someone who ached for unleashed freedom.
But for a moment,
I was willing to become docile
if she was the one
who’d continue to tell me the tales
of what it is to feel the rushing rivers,
and the bright stars,
and the tall grass
as if they were part of a distant, forgotten memory.
Oh, I loved someone who was always fated to leave me

Author: poetryfest

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