Once tall, strong, and proud,
my spine is no longer straight
nor is my confidence immediate.
I’ve succumbed to her whims and I break.
For her Eastern winds pummeled my skin,
while her Western winds eroded my defenses.
From the North her cold invaded my heart
and from the South a surprising warmth still caresses.
She has peaks and I have valleys.
She diminishes me with her great sky
and she punishes me with her torrential rains.
How did the roles reverse with her and I?
Her Earth should be pockmarked and shattered
with my nebulous body draped over her in protection,
soothing the fragile ground with my redresses,
defending her honor with thunderbolt aggression.
I know there are those far more Rocky,
I know there are those far more Grand,
but even as I wash away under her weather,
I fight for my place in her arms, making my last stand.