I found heaven on the hills of the Adirondacks.

I scrambled up the sides of mountains,

My hands cracked from rough ground and gravel.

I battled mountain goats and steep inclines,

Scraping knees on broken stones as I ascended.

I’d lost trail mates along the way,

To frailty or boredom or disinterest in my pursuit.

They’d turned back around like they’d faced their “Road Ends Here” sign,

Thus, their ungrounded feet betrayed their otherwise curious youth.

I bid them farewell and waved my trail guests adieu

On their journey back from which we’d come.

The wind blew against my dissipated breath.

I tried to scream at the resistance,

But my voice was stripped with the wind,

Stolen by the breeze that tilted my chin,

And threatened to throw me off those sacred grounds.

The air was thick and the sky hazy,

An upward battle of sweat against skin.

I lost cell service by mile eleven,

But I’d found my calling back on mile ten.

I caught my breath on a grassy patch of hill just off the unbeaten path.

The gnats attacked in swarms of black,

Leading the way towards Silent River.

There was peace in those mountains,

In the cuts underneath my fingernails

And the scrapes along my ankles from branches that fought against my entrance.

There was peace in the wind,

In its stolen voices that sang solemn melodies I did not understand.

There was peace at Silent River, this haven on land,

That poured its riches into earth untouched by fragile human hands.

The sun, in all of its might, mocked me with a haughty grin,

High on its throne of clouds while I sweated its heat,

Daring me to turn back around and admit my defeat.

But that sun had always been a mischievous thing,

So, I ascended higher onto the mount,

With a passion that made that wretched sun cower behind its cloudy throne.

The trees bowed in reverence to something I could not see

As I braced against wind and sun and earth and rock and raging mental retreat.

I finally reached its peak, but I did not gasp my gratitude,

Or repeat the sweet stolen melodies of the wind and breeze.

I stepped towards the heaven I’d reached,

A simple, wooden cabin on a mountain’s hill.

Four doors and a roof unmarred and unbroken.

A single knock, and the door opened wide.

Two smiling eyes

And a gentle smile

And the words,

“So, you’ve found Home...”

I’ve long since descended the mountains of the Adirondacks.

The sun doesn’t mock me so much anymore,

And the wind ran out of melodies to steal.

But I gained a friend when I’d knocked on that door,

On that mountain top hill I’d fought to ascend.

Perhaps heaven’s been found again since my trek.

And that lonely, unbeaten path isn’t so lonely anymore.

Perhaps Silent River has someone to speak for now.

And those bowing trees have someone to reach towards now.

And if no one else pursues that mount,

If no one else claims that unclaimed path,

I brought the mocking sun and the singing wind,

And a drop of Silent River down the grassy hill on the mountain top

To bring the heaven I found down to earth.

Aliseya