SEARCH
The pristine mountain
just a little battered now
the smooth dome gone
ragged crown
the lake was shady yin—
now blinding water mirror of the sky
remembering days of fir and hemlock—
no blame to the magma or the mountain
& sit on a clean down log at the lake’s edge,
the water dark as tea.
I had asked Mt. St. Helens for help
the day I climbed it, so seems she did
If you ask for help it comes.
But not in any way you’d ever know—
thank you Loowit, lawilayt-lá, Smoky Mâ
gracias xiexie grace
From In the Blast Zone, pages 114-115. (OSU Press, 2008)
Full Publication from Oregon State University Press
