Small mountain ranges like the Wichita Mountains once towered as high as the Rockies. There is much wisdom in all they have endured.

The Aged Elder Sings of the Wichita Mountains

These old and ancient mountains
still stand, but not so tall;
water and wind have worn them down;
the prairies watch them fall.

The prairies watch and whisper
at the summit's slow descent;
in the thunderstorm I have heard
their bittersweet lament:

      "Fire and rain, they purify;
      the smell is strong and sweet.
      But the price to pay is high;
      and the soul is weak."

These mountains love this message,
sung low against the earth,
though once they would not listen
in the young years of their birth.

But now the aged mountains
take up the prairie's hymn
and sing it to the valleys
where it echoes in the wind:

      "Fire and rain, they purify;
      the smell is strong and sweet.
      But the price to pay is high;
      and the soul is weak."

I too have faced the fierce winds,
and tasted rain and fire.
And I have watched my prayers ascend
toward heaven ever higher.

Soon I will seek my rest there,
after standing firm and long,
through the many storms on earth that
from a faint soul forge a strong.

Next poem: Migrations

Author: Jerry Dan Deutschendorf
from: Red Earth Whisperings
Part I: Nature and the Nature of Things