Move Slowly

A poem

Gandala Pass, as seen through a magic lens.

Move slowly through the mountains

so the silver streams may not pass you by.

Look, the yellow yarrow wave with the wind,

Say hello, turn not a rude, blind eye.

Marmots stand praying beside grazing yaks.

To whom, will you not stop to pry?

Move slowly through the mountains

For speed is sure to steal what little air

is left in your windpipe;

Slow down to a whisper, a crawl,

so your body will not be chewed and spit

by the craggy wayside.

Move slowly through the mountains,

so love can catch up with long strides,

say Hi, take a walk alongside;

pause to see the light in your eyes,

And when your bones turn heavy,

take you on a magicride.

• Komal

This poem came to me on a new moon day, as I was trekking through the magical mountains of Ladakh.