Wounded

Wounded

Off to the west

I see Mount St. Helens

her crown rising

or sitting, on

a textured and layered cloud cover,

a blanket of fleece.

The sun glints

off a snow face

wearing the scars

and visible evidence

of damage

a history, a past, a story;

volatile

and heartrending

a world altered forever

but now identified, known

and celebrated

for its disfigurement.

No different than our own lives,

waiting for the sun to touch

whatever wounded us.

Terry Hershey