All around, softly undulating sands lie, <br />Ochre shaded, uniform to the eye. <br />Far ahead, the mountain range, <br />Jagged crags of black, <br />Stand out against a blue glazed sky. <br /> <br />Lava-black, thrust upwards, torn <br />From inside the earth when it was born. <br />Rugged, ragged ridges, <br />Spiked carbon coals, <br />Sparkling with diamond thorns. <br /> <br />Silver streams gush forth, to wind between <br />The rocks below; ribbons of aquamarine <br />That silently shimmer, <br />To flow snake like <br />Into deep pools of emerald green. <br /> <br />In former times, perhaps a secret, sacred place, <br />Favoured by sufi poets, seeking grace <br /> Through suffering, <br />As they climbed with bloodied, naked feet <br />Upwards to a perfect love, <br />To be, at last, at one with God. <br /> <br />Today they've built a tourist hotel. <br />Pool, mini- golf, roller -skating rink. <br />Five star luxury and service with a smile. <br />But the mountains loom dark in the background <br />As you sip your evening drink.<br /><br />Margery Rehman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-mountains-of-hatta/
