Envy of Mountain Goats, or, a Feeling You Could Only Experience Once

the s i l e n c e

in the woods is

thunderous.

there are no mosquitos here;
they cannot survive in these winds

i am out of place.
i was not meant to be here.

not in this form

something is missing from my chest

will you help me find it?

there is a quivering voice in the wind:

the mountains are home to the gods

i want to scream but the trees have stolen my voice

the mountains are home to the gods,

they hiss.

i do not belong here but i am home.

the mountain goats are shedding and ugly and I am envious of them.

the bears are climbing in the trees and I am envious of them.

i am

missing

something that should never have been found

there is a voice in the back of my skull.

it is growing louder and louder

whispering with the voices of the things i have killed:

the mountains are home to the gods

and i feel the wind and i scream back:

the mountains are home to the gods and me

Grady Curtis is a creative writing major with an ecology minor. They live in New Hampshire with their two dogs and enjoy painting in their free time.