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Mount Evans Wilderness, June 2016. Copyright © Michael D. Warden. All Rights Reserved.


I hold fire

in my secret heart

that drives my walking

no matter where it is

I mean to go

this vow is mine

though I do not know

its name

it lives

beneath my words

beyond the reach

of civil conversation

it dares me

to feel alive

to be life

to raise holy fire

above my head

and simply go

To split the stone

with a sword

to summon rivers

in a land with no rain

to dance

wet and wild and free

upon the lightning

at midnight

you must sever yourself

from a reasonable life

this fire is mine

though I do not know

its name

I am unmoored

by its beckoning

unmade by its

unreasonable demands

and all my life

is better for it

for it is here

in this untamed country

I find a place

where I can stand

and realize

in the standing

that it is mine

that it has always

been mine

that all of it

is homecoming

What can I do

but run

toward the beckoning grace?

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