The Untamed Mountains

by Hannah Sanders

THE UNTAMED MOUNTAINS

Wild mountains were the strong

   shelters of our pain. Here anger

ricocheted no more. Their walls

   no wave could breach; 

I learned what it means

to have peace there, of a kind,

though I longed for it to find

me in those sea blown plains. 

This cool-aired misty morning

made her glow, soft again,

made him smile and take our hands.

For what seemed twenty miles,

our little legs protested—

nostrils sated with scent 

of eucalyptus.

Perhaps it was then I learned

to persuade my weary feet

up another hill, discern

   from a new aerie

all that ebbs… recedes.

I sit a spell on spacious rock—

   clouds clearing in the breeze.

Let the sunlight warm my frame.

  Another season ripens

in shadow of the untamed.

HANNAH SANDERS

Hannah Sanders is a follower of Christ, wife, mom to two teen boys, teacher, artist, and writer. She loves Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters, afternoon tea, and long walks in the woods.

Her art, prose, and poetry have been featured by the Brazos Valley Arts Council, The Way Back to Ourselves, Vessels of Light, and Calla Press, among others.

@hannahsanders.art is her little corner on Instagram.

For more long-form writing, see Hannah Sanders | Substack.