Bonnie Manion


Namako’lama, massive sentinel

against the east wind, smoldering,

mouldering fortress confronting

the soft seduction of cloud billows

which cradle, envelop and  pillow

your hoary head, breaking down

its stony resistance in a rain of tears,

rivers falling into green furrows.


Namako’lama, old massif, you are

overrun, overcome, mesmerized;

your might is blurred, obscured,

hard countenance hypnotized and

covered in a dozen waterfalls, cold                           

 stony face now a weeping giant.