It is time for the mountains to move.

They say it can’t be done and I watch

them being carried by rivers.

I watch them rising. Floating up to the sky,

slowly. Buoyed on crust floating on

the smoldering heart of our earth.

Magma. We exist because mountains

Have laid themselves down in a thin layer.

Soil. So similar to soul. Ever changing, ever creating, ever reliant on time.

Time, our old friend moves in circles. It does not care about capitalism. It cares about

how it is cared for. How we return to the earth, the favors they extend to us. This. Life.

Did you forget that you are breathing?

Did you forget that you are alive?

The rocks that live in you live in me too. They hold the roots of the food that sustains us,

and those roots hold them too.

Do you think that rocks hold hands?

I’ve stood at the foot of a mountain,

and wondered, if their feet could move

would they dance? We are living through

mountain time, as if we are wind. As if

every breath we take was not made by billions of years of trees learning to breathe.

How is this not the conversation?

How do we accept that we are living in the conversation?

Climate change is us changing. Is human animals finding our way back into the fabric.

You cannot untangle the strings that keep us tethered here.

Our bodies weigh exactly how strong earth pulls us back towards them.

Earth holds us here, lets us live here, it is time to learn the language of mountains.

To dance with them as they teach us,

what can be done.