Mountain Paths

by Tessa Dummett, United Kingdom

Sharing with you a poem that one of our potential guests (a poetess) wrote anticipating this morning her visit to our part of the Himalayas

Chunnu ran through the hills

pockmarked with the tingling of Tibetan bells

Her feet brushing the sounds of the crickets lying dormant

in the morning mist before their wake up morning calls.

My alarm shrills inside my head

and the mountains invite me to unknown territory.

Chunnu assures me I will be happy there

and I clutch on to the fading morning mist

as London sultry morning breaks

whilst I frame it with visions of Tankas,

Tibetan monks chanting,

temples echoing mantras side by side,

Tibetan jade jewellery glinting in the morning light

wards off the evil eyes, surrounds the crumbling

Mughal window frames,

pillared houses of white and bronze coloured stone

lattice work windows, wooden shutters.

mountain flowers, winding roads

some mish mash of images rise up

and comfort me as hot tears flow incessantly

of broken dreams once forged in love and passion

of lovers gone by, now I will merge into Chunnu's

vision, as life has slipped through my fingers like fast falling sand

and after all, the mountains seem to be calling me once again.