Poem: The Hills Are Always There

The Hills Are Always There

  I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.

My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. ̴̴̴̴̴ Psalm 121

The air can be oppressive, thick with smoke

Forcing us to swelter inside. Others,

Though, are forced from their homes. We are still home.

Just because we can’t see the hills doesn’t

Mean they aren’t there and smoke will blow over.

 

At other times it’s the oppressing air,

A thick blanket of fog blinds us again

But still we know the hills are always there.

At these times we have to stoke the fire’s flames,

Not pray for rain to clear the air of smoke.

 

Others might dwell in the clouds or the smoke

Oblivious to the hills, green or brown

But always there, hidden beneath a cloak.

We might live with smoke and clouds but we know

By faith, the hills are always there.

 

August 2015

About This Poem

I wrote this under the inspiration of the Psalm during a time of intense wildfire smoke. You couldn't see Moscow Mountain from our house (which you almost always can because it's so close). It felt important to remember to look to the hills even when they can't be seen and to remember where your strength comes from.