The Mountain
The lights change and I stop.
Other cars sail by now,
as my eyes are lifted high to this Mountain,
so mighty, so green, so pleasant.
The air is intensely clear
I put my hands out of the window to touch it,
for it seems to be just there,
demanding my attention
calling for my response.
Like you Lord coming to the disciples
by the sea of Galilee.
They could reach out and touch you,
so intensely present with them were you,
demanding their attention
calling for their response.
The lights change,
the cars begin to move.
Which way must I go, Lord?
- Poem for Grandchildren living far away
- Reflection on the Conversion of St Paul
- Reflection on the Sower
- The Mustard Seed Prose Poem
- Report on the launch of my poetry book, The Dance of Life
My Thanks for the Sound Effects by Mohammad habibul islam from Pixabay
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