Avalanche

I created this, ice axe in hand.

Clipping for the light glow
In the crack of a cornice,
Slap-down, waiting on handle-
Tremors that never come.

The slow-auschwitz continues.

I can feel the earth move.
My innocent earthquake-shake,
Our snow-drift plucking up
Courage, sieveing, slow-slow.

And large. Large as anything.

The beauty of it growing:
Shift slides picking up speed,
Rows of light gods vanishing
To reappear within shadow.

All the while falling, falling.

In the stills of consequence,
Distant mountains look on,
Their stand-offish back talk
Snippets I do not care for.

I stop and imagine how it ends,

Hidden in the town below,
The people tucked in cabins,
Not understanding death
Or the roll of a mountain,

No, it will not reach them -

The hold and halt of terrain
Set to spare life this time,
Gradient and slope not yet
Severe enough to sink so low.

But now I know destruction:

What of this next mountain?
What of this breakable life?