Casted Stones
As I ride the winding roads away from smothering waves of hypocrisy,
I cross the line into freedom through valleys, soft breeze and fluent rivers
Decorated with weathered rocks and bordered by empty picnic tables
The multi-colored mountains rise high above me, holding onto spatial snow,
Before it’s stolen by spring’s warmth with months of waiting to be seen again
Suddenly everything is so simple, like the wandering turkey, on patches of grass
Old railroad tracks remain in place through crevices of gray cliffs so narrow on edge
Birch trees cast shining white color in clusters on the side of the road in the sun
Waterfalls flow down the mountainside with an ‘energy’ some thrive to have,
In a world spinning with hatred amidst criticism that drains the depth of one’s soul
While all those ‘complaining’ hurl insults like balls of fire, fueling it more each day
Yes, hypocrisy has its twisted way
But, far into the fresh air of these mountains, so cleansing and peaceful to the mind,
There is no place for this kind of hypocrisy that twists, bends and projects, robust negativity
Such that those want to push onto others like a wave in which they believe will drown the truth
But, God allows for spaces to be found that some things he dislikes may never reach
Such as these mountains, this winding road, this fresh air to breathe all with no casted stones
Heidi Sands
4/9/21
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