quiet shadows
i learned something about courage
from the mountains—
though they never spoke of it
only stood there
through weather after weather
letting the snow arrive
letting it leave
⸻
sometimes i would climb
until the trees thinned out
and the trail disappeared
into fog
the wind moved softly
through the aspens
even the stones
seemed patient
and i understood
perhaps for the first time
that fear is only
another kind of weather
it passes through
it changes shape
it does not ask permission
before entering the body
⸻
i have watched clouds
drag their shadows
across entire valleys
watched lightning
open the summer sky
above the wasatch
watched wind pass
through canyon grass
like water no one could see
and each time
the same quiet lesson:
nothing living
remains unchanged for long
not the mountain
not the weather
not grief
not the heart
⸻
meanwhile
the mountain remained—
not hard
not cruel
simply itself
granite and lichen
raven-shadow
cloud light moving slowly
across the ridge
⸻
and what else was courage
but this:
to keep going
when the path disappeared
to place one hand
against the cold face of the earth
and feel
beneath it all
something steady
still there