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.