The Strength Of Mountains Poem by Sally Sandler

Silence is the language of their choice—
the mountain peaks holding up the sky
that shoulder it and never question why,
like Atlas propping up the universe.

I think about the stoics of the world
who, like the mountains, deal with fate in quiet,
who see the battle and in silence fight it—
no passion shown, and no emotion heard.

But passion and emotion have their place,
and every mountain has a weaker side:
rivers run like tears they may have cried,
carving canyons in each stubborn face,

and rearranging boulders as they course.
All the mountain ranges I admire
are vulnerable to tempests, and to fire,
and shaken by a temblor's violence.

The forces that make mountains tremble are
full-throated and impassioned when they speak.
Perhaps emotion is not something weak …
no more so than the impassive martyr.