Church on Chochmo's Hill
Have you seen the Church,
That sleeps on Chochmo’s Hill?
It waits,
Unwavering,
In the aspen clearing.
The grass is brought to lull,
Subtly dancing in the wind.
The dust within
is stirred by unheard cries.
The rotting wood
creaks
as if it were trod on,
in times long past.
Outside the decaying chapel,
A coyote passes by
a mound,
And a broken cross.
He need not worry
as he ascends into the foothills,
For these lands have remained untouched
since before he was born.
Whatever light
that breaches the storming clouds ahead,
Falls through the ailing stained glass windows
of the Church on Chochmo's Hill.
Whatever light,
That finds its way
to rest on the pews,
Rests on no man.
Photos were taken in Alaska, with a Sony Alpha5000. VSCO was used for editing.