Landslide

"An enormous landslide on the way to the Alto Peak Campsite due to heavy rains," our guide said.

What must it sound like when the ground gave out? The shifting of the earth, the breaking down after years of holding it all in?

A climber bemused, "Yep, we do have a lot of baggage." We thought she was referring to her group's bags and supplies. And then she continued with a grin, "Emotional ones." She sprained her ankle while descending from Lake Janagdan. Her load was too much for her size and yet she endured it until well, her ankle gave in.

What loads do we carry when we march on that trail of no return? Why do we march on that trail of no return? And how much of it is ours to carry or do we need to carry, really? Or, do we take on that path so our baggages may be unpacked? So our former selves may be shed off by dust, mud, rain, mist, fog, sun, meager footholds, thin nylon ropes that burn our palms? Or because physical pain is easier to endure than the not so physical ones?

What must we sound like when we are so full of ourselves that we break? Do we scream? Weep? Both? And do we become as beautiful as the rock garden formed brought about by the landslide on the way to Alto Peak Camp Site?

April 29, 2017
Alto Peak Campsite
Brgy Cabintan
Ormoc, Leyte