from the alpine tundra of mont jacques cartier of the appalachian mountains, gaspesie. 2017.
in the last few years, the sense of not having to return from the hike, the urge to keep going deeper into the wilderness and not come back, grows stronger. i pause at the end of my trail and am compelled to disappear into this landscape, to become the speck that fades in the distance, to leave and never reproduce the life of alarms and bank balances. something pulls at me from my core, like a taut rope, towards the expanse, the savage peace and lush desolation of the forests.
To the Mountains
by Lunas de abril
I observe you observing me from a distance
Trembling in the middle of strange cities.
A war drum in my heart becomes louder,
It is not enough for more sadness, I don’t spill my regret.
With the throat almost on the threshold of weeping,
Dead night in which the stars are not seen,
Rain that burns, the mountain from a distance offers me its cloak,
The bullet that will condemn the lives of those who the Earth condemns.
In the mountains the angry coyote dances,
Its claws carry the frost of the ancestors,
They will be stained at the sound of their accursed vengeance.
Gunpowder and bullets in the name of dead coyotes!
It roared while it descended from the untamed mountain.