There is a time,
a time where healing
is paused
and peace reigns;
if only for the moment.

There is a time,
allowing us the opportunity
to bow humbling,
accepting the grace
and healing of our Father.
To know that Mother earth
has freed us and given us
pause to be thankful.

There is a time for us
to be true.
True to our selves,
true to our ancestors
and humbly grateful
to our Father.

There is a time,
a time for us to
merge in peace and
in the sanctity of being.
Being, alone is the gift of
our Mother earth.

Mountain Fresh.
Beauty outshines the sorrow.

Red hair, pale skin -
touched by fire and
undermined by guilt.
Yet she visits, to let us know
she dwells still among the hills -
loving the land like those yet living.

Lost children too, return in absent spirit
and taunt our memories.
Some found, some forever lost -
but always here among the hills.

Survivors claiming riotousness, failures
forever lost, hypocritic states frozen in time -
collide and dwell still among the hills.
Somethings never change,
then again and forever:

Mountain Fresh,
Beauty outshines the sorrow.