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Strip Mining the Soul


Sedimented stones

build the mountain in pastels

of white, pink, and clay tones,

sandstone reds, black basalts—

pairings and contrasts smooth.

 

The geologist will say:

“Yes, each layer is a million

million years of earthtime,

the smooth surfaces and hollows

from the wind’s sculpting hand,

Jurassic era downpours,

and prehistoric floods.

 

This beauty was beaten

from nature over eons

dwarfing all our lives.”

 

And this is how God

molds us into a landscape of virtue,

a stratigraphy for biographers to ponder:

 

Season sedimenting season,

one chemical seasoning another,

lifting this plate, thrusting that down,

only biomes hidden deep in the core

of our 100-degree psyche aware 

of movement within stillness.

 

We are largely passive, alas

in this jagged process of becoming—

except for our prayers, yes, and

the erosive power of tears.

 

Amen.

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