Emma Robles

I met God on the mountain today
pressing finger tips to tree rings—
searching for any semblance of same.
Listening for my empty heart to echo
as I call out my own name.

Because I have a hard time knowing
where the world ends and I begin.
The branches who give the seed
simply to know themselves
as they fruit once again.

And I have gathered the fruits,
I have sucked around the pit.
So much it often finds its way to my stomach—
knotted around life as I stare directly into it.

I met God on the mountain today
and speak of all the times I have fallen
only for love to throw me over its shoulder
and carry me back.
I speak of all the times my heart has been broken
only for the light to seep through every crack.

I met God on the mountain today
down on hands and knees
crawling back to myself.
Praying if I am remembered for anything
it is all the kindness I have left.

I met God on the mountain today
and felt my breath like a force on the wind.
Seen only in those I move through—
grasses, trees, and the hair atop skin.

I met God on the mountain today
surrendering myself as the offering.
Asking to use my temporary body
and calloused hands
as vessels for healing this ancient land.

I met God on the mountain today
allowing my fear to know itself again as water.

I met God on the mountain today
allowing my heart to know itself again as daughter.