The Mountain — Abnish Singh Chauhan

The mountain stood there,
holding its head high,
it had been there for centuries,
rooted like a star in the sky.

Clouds gathered,
clashed,
the storm came,
the tempest roared,
but the mountain remained silent.

A blanket of snow
covered it,
turning it cold and blue,
but the mountain remained silent.

The weather grew harsh,
it cracked and shifted it,
slowly, step by step,
but the mountain remained silent.

It remained silent even when
animals and insects came,
scratching, burrowing,
making their homes in its form.

Then came some people,
planting explosives
at its very roots.
It trembled,
then cried,
as if fighting
for its existence,
alone,
in the modern world.

***