My Hope Is In The Mountain, by Nancy Wood

My help is in the mountain

Where I take myself to heal

The earthly wounds

That people give to me.

I find a rock with sun on it

And a stream where the water runs gentle

And the trees which one by one give me company.

So must I stay for a long time

Until I have grown from the rock

And the stream is running through me

And I cannot tell myself from one tall tree.

Then I know that nothing touches me

Nor makes me run away.

My help is in the mountain

That I take away with me.

Nancy Wood.

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