Eight-line Poems 2

Tectonics

Tectonics

Now the snows of eternal winter
settle on my raised face in the sodden clouds
and the brittle shells of my birth
are but myriad memories of the silent deep
lifted now through millennial torture
locked in the grip of relentless earth
folded and pressed in stony dance
to mountain heights and alpine field.


Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 08.21.24
Prompt: Write a shifting poem.