Mountaintop

I was not made to walk among the valleys,
I was not made to keep my nose against the ground.
Here I stand in the middle of the wind and the sky,
the sun beating fresh against my neck,
and here is where I belong.

I am formed of dirt and dust and weakness,
and I was born along the tide-washed shore.
I am equal parts bitterness and anger,
shallow thoughts and easy deeds.

But I am more than who I am or what I do,
and I have wonder steeping in my blood.
My feet can climb above where I am planted,
to laugh within the clouds, the peaks, the trees
and feel my soul expand to the heights.