Brecon Beacons, October 2014
Shadowless You are shadowless. There is nothing between you and the light. Ever. Even as I write, the candle throws a large shadow that makes my hand long and spidery. But for you, nothing ever makes you have a shadow. Yet, and, you are vibrant and ever present. You tease and play, whether I’m here or not. The birds play in you, whirl and swirl, round and round, high, and higher.
Today you carried water to me, refreshed me, and drenched me! I laughed. I wanted to put my gloves on. You seemed to disagree – trying to whip them away! I won that tussle. And the soft, soft ground wanted to refresh me too – water coming up the way! No place or footfall exempt. Squidge, squelch, up and over my shoes, cooling, as it reaches my toes. And I laugh. And I love Ama and all her wonder.
Ama* Ama you are so beautiful. Today your auburn garb is of such rich hue, intense and arresting. I love how you drape your shoulder with grey, nonchalantly, veiling yourself, a mystery, enigma. And sometimes it slips and your outline is revealed. So very beautiful.
*( Ama means ‘Mother’ in Sherpa)
In your honour
Today I walked and saw you, off the path, away, and by the tumbling, crashing stream. I put my arm round you as I gazed at the gushing torrent in its abundance. I felt your sturdiness, and my gaze turned to you. Bumpy and crevassed to the touch, home to the soft moss and myriad life. I looked up and saw how high you rise, with your arms perfectly poised. I glanced down and saw the bumpy, sinewy knolls of roots. Roots sinking deep and deeper, gathering nourishment, secretly and assuredly. I gasped. As Ama provides for you, she will for me. She sheltered me in you – your strength for me to lean on. I kissed you and thanked you, bowed slightly in your honour and in our kinship.