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S: Kilimanjaro: A Book of Poetry and Adventure

FC: Kilimanjaro: A Book of Poetry and Adventure

1: Kilimanjaro: A Book of Poetry and Adventure | Dearest Kili Krew, There is no one else on Earth with whom I would rather share such a incredible adventure. May these pages remind us of our epic climb and glorious friendship. With Love, Julia Randall

2: Nairobi

3: The Journey One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice -- though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. "Mend my life!" each voice cried. But you didn't stop. You knew what you had to do, though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones. But little by little, as you left their voices behind, the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do -- determined to save the only life you could save. -Mary Oliver

4: Don't call this world adorable, or useful, that's not it. It's frisky, and a theater for more than fair winds. The eyelash of lightning is neither good nor evil. The struck tree burns like a pillar of gold. But the blue rain sinks, straight to the white feet of the trees whose mouths open. Doesn't the wind, turning in circles, invent the dance? Haven't the flowers moved, slowly, across Asia, then Europe, until at last, now, they shine in your own yard? Don't call this world an explanation, or even an education. When the Sufi poet whirled, was he looking outward, to the mountains so solidly there in a white-capped ring, or was he looking to the center of everything: the seed, the egg, the idea that was also there, beautiful as a thumb curved and touching the finger, tenderly, little love-ring, as he whirled, oh jug of breath, in the garden of dust? | Where Does the Dance Begin, Where Does It End? | Mary Oliver

5: KI L I | KREW | "7 People You Don't Know" action figures! Coming Soon! | Funny Bunny/ Bopey | Burpin' BM Ben | C-Monster | Bopey | J-Bonks | Johana! Johana! | Li-Li | Johnson | Rumi

6: Methodon Roams Deep In Kilimanjaro Eating Snickers

7: The story of Wolly the Wolof Kilimanjaro makes a treacherous home Very few beasts come here to roam Yet, there once lived a creature in a deep rocky gully Old wives tales remember this brute, this Wolof named Wolly He was seen by few but sought out by many Elusive as a snarlwok, a flibjib, a flenny His coat was dark and ridges covered his flanks One picture ‘d earn the owner 1,000,000 francs You may wonder how I came to know of this beast This monster, this creature, who on my own flesh would feast... But I say to you, "You know nothing at all!" Wolly’s my friend and those tales are just tall He’s sweet and caring yet this bad rep proceeds him Food left by tourists and porters are all that do feed him! Sure, he’s covered by gristly gray, black, and green scales But in this harsh habitat camouflage never fails He lives amongst rocks, craggles, and trees called sneetches Yet has a secret desire to visit Greece’s fine beaches So before you speak ill of a creature or stranger Take a moment to note you’re putting him in danger In Wolly’s case hunters seek a bounty price And to lose his own life would not be so nice Bad words breed malice toward men or toward beast So give those you don’t know a chance in the least Now I’ll go back to playing with Wolly my friend You’re invited too (if altitude sickness isn’t your end)

8: A New Year has come, the clock just struck twelve Deeper down in my bag my toes seeks to delve The porters sound out with uproarious cheer What a way to bring in a Happy New Year! We sleep above clouds and my heart races I have to go bad so I creep a few paces I peek out of my tent at cosmos shining above Frigid air stings my face, but I am in love Sparkling stars weave Orion a full chain mail shirt I feel so at peace here, my senses alert But suddenly a sound and I know I must dart From a tent nearby a sharp high altitude fart! Yet even with that there's no place I’d rather be Then with my dear friends climbing Mount Kili

9: I Am Running into a New Year i am running into a new year and the old years blow back like a wind that i catch in my hair like strong fingers like all my old promises and it will be hard to let go of what i said to myself about myself when i was sixteen and twenty-six and thirty-six even thirty-six but i am running into a new year and i beg what i love and i leave to forgive me Lucille Clifton

11: The scent of socks and fart The feeling as if we’re falling apart Yet the summit gleams, its capp'd peak in view And it’s worth it seems, especially with you We’ll summit at dawn, climbing together Miserable, freezing, but a moment we’ll treasure Climbing Kili, not as easy as it seems But my, this morning, how the summit gleams

12: Parable First divesting ourselves of worldly goods, as St. Francis teaches, in order that our souls not be distracted by gain and loss, and in order also that our bodies be free to move easily at the mountain passes, we had then to discuss whither or where we might travel, with the second question being should we have a purpose, against which many of us argued fiercely that such purpose corresponded to worldly goods, meaning a limitation or constriction, whereas others said it was by this word we were consecrated pilgrims rather than wanderers: in our minds, the word translated as a dream, a something-sought, so that by concentrating we might see it glimmering among the stones, and not pass blindly by; each further issue we debated equally fully, the arguments going back and forth, so that we grew, some said, less flexible and more resigned, like soldiers in a useless war. And snow fell upon us, and wind blew, which in time abated — where the snow had been, many flowers appeared, and where the stars had shone, the sun rose over the tree line so that we had shadows again; many times this happened. Also rain, also flooding sometimes, also avalanches, in which some of us were lost, and periodically we would seem to have achieved an agreement; our canteens hoisted upon our shoulders, but always that moment passed, so (after many years) we were still at that first stage, still preparing to begin a journey, but we were changed nevertheless; we could see this in one another; we had changed although we never moved, and one said, ah, behold how we have aged, traveling from day to night only, neither forward nor sideward, and this seemed in a strange way miraculous. And those who believed we should have a purpose believed this was the purpose, and those who felt we must remain free in order to encounter truth, felt it had been revealed. Louise Gluck

13: The | The Hidden Singer The gods are less for their love of praise. Above and below them all is a spirit that needs nothing but its own wholeness, its health and ours. It has made all things by dividing itself. It will be whole again. To its joy we come together -- the seer and the seen, the eater and the eaten, the lover and the loved. In our joining it knows itself. It is with us then, not as the gods whose names crest in unearthly fire, but as a little bird hidden in the leaves who sings quietly and waits, and sings. -Wendell Berry

14: When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer When I heard the learnd astronomer; When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me; When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them; When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room, How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick; Till rising and gliding out, I wander'd off by myself, In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars. Walk Whitman

16: The Summit

17: In Blackwater Woods Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light, are giving off the rich fragrance of cinnamon and fulfillment the long tapers of cattails are bursting and floating away over the blue shoulders of the ponds, and every pond no matter what its name is, is nameless now. Every year everything I have ever learned in my lifetime leads back to this: the fires and the black river of loss whose other side is salvation, whose meaning none of us will ever know. To live in this world you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go. Mary Oliver

19: Down down down the mountain we hobbled Out muscles tight, we bantered and bobbled A few days ago, we fought for the peak Panting and pushing, feeling so very weak But we made it! We did! All to the summit! Back safe at sea level we shout out, “We Dunnit!” Now we look back at memories shared with one another Like how Johnson’s our boy, our caca, our brother How Ben learned to air himself unabashedly "It’s part of the experience, who cares who will see?" And the difficulty of climbing behind Johan as he acclimatizes And what a pleasure it is to see mountain sunrises We saw how Adam can sing loud with little or no air And the eagerness of her bowel exploits Liana’s willing to share How Cathy passed on secrets of flat pebbles and rocks While her toes literally froze off within her socks We witnessed Joe’s skill treating wounds of physche and soma Yet when AMS hit hard, he should have gone home-a He was so strong through pain exquisite and wild Adam's head hurt a bit but Joe's headache was NOT MILD! I’ll remember helping him up one slow step at a time And how all pristine trekking pants were soon covered in grime We’ll think back on the landscape and the changing fauna and floras The good food and care provided by Bush Explorahs Remembering Chedrick as he acted like Fonzi “Ehhh! Jambo Guana, can I get you hot water for tea?” I'll always remember the Wolof named Wolly And sneetches and silly rhymes that kept us so jolly And thoughts of poetry after dark with stars shining so bright And the black mountain as we crept through the night Today is the last day of the trip but not of us together We’ll always have Kili and our new friendship together So as we each go on to new places today Let us keep dear our memories and go onward, Pole Pole

20: Rwanda | It is surely impossible to capture the essence But I’ll remember my time here until convalescence

21: Gardens for Health Awaken to sunflowers hunched from yesterday’s dark As if recalling Rwanda’s past that left its deep mark But as the sun shines down, heads lift up to greet it Such warmth, life, resilience! Nothing can beat it What a home this is for the children and mamas To use the dear earth as they act out life’s dramas The people and stories outline true human condition Bringing us closer together as we cook in the kitchen Daily downpours sweep by, quenching the ground’s thirst Producing mangoes so juicy they just about burst And sweet potatoes and moringa and savory maize Glorious green growth keeps hands busy for days Everything cooked is delicious, superb to the taste And Ahh! From fresh food, what glorious waste! Shells, pits, husks, peels composted en masse Transforming dirt to fertile soil, the color of ash The hillsides become patchworks of deep emerald mottle Along lines of tiered slopes infants learn to toddle What a glorious community a garden can build Families come to do work, bellies come to be filled The farm in Ndera has brought a family together Touching each person, impacting their lives forever This place is a home and it is easy to see Here there’s always a friend, na inshuti

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  • By: Julia R.
  • Joined: almost 6 years ago
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