the stream that trickles in the dry season and rushes above my hips in the wet season
the afternoon breeze that whips through the tree tops carrying a cacophony of branch music down the mountainside
the hollow crunching sound shale makes beneath my feet
the frigid chill of the alpine lake as I plunge in under peer pressure
all this is god
the clouds in the morning that tell of rain in the afternoon
the thunder following quickly behind lightning as I’m drenched
the milky way twisting in the night sky, a different position every time I turn over in my sleeping bag
the way my legs carry me step after step, thighs as strong as granite
all this is god
the inner searching I can’t help but do hiking day after day
the way I run to the mountains in need of purpose and comfort
the laughter and the tears shared
all this is god
I found god in the places she didn’t enjoy
I found god where there was no toilet or blow dryer or mirror or makeup
god is not in the strip mall church, the temple, or the mega church congregation
god is in dirt covered feet at the end of a long day
in the relief of peeling off my pack and letting the wind cool the sweat on my skin
god is in redwood halls and granite cathedrals
where the air is never stale with self-righteous self-importance
to you, god is caged
dogmatic and unfeeling
to me, she is wild and free