by Cj Mitchell

Created on: April 06, 2009

Stone Dragons

Among us still they live and breathe
where earth and stone yet churn and heave,
Tis where the stoney dragons dwell
and rage within a fiery hell.
Twas for a time did slumber deep
so far beneath in mountains keep,
The beast, the beast awakens there
and mortals dread that he should dare.
Then shakes the earth in angry waking
roars to set the stone a'breaking,

From cathedrals piercing sky
his wrath is sent in billows high.
Upon the heads of weary men
his blackened cinders fall again,
To demonstrate his mighty power
'mid the darkness of the hour.

This is dedicated to all those who've lost their life, love, and livelihood to the raging of the stone dragons with whom we live.

When I was young, we used to go hiking and camping up at Mt Saint Helens. Of all the Cascade range, truly one of the most popular and picturesque mountains. And the deep blue water of Spirit Lake offered the reflection of such beauty, and serenity. It was among the most scenic getaways one could enjoy, and for us, living not far from the mountain, it was even better. But this would be a day that changed everything, it was a Sunday morning, May 18th, 1980. Mt Saint Helens had been rumbling anxiously since March, with small intermittent ash plumes and quakes, but on this day, she turned from beauty to beast. At approximately 8:30 am, a 5.1 earthquake rocked the mountain, and it was on. The north face gave way to one of the largest recorded landslides in history, and a cataclysmic eruption. I remember watching in awe as thunder swept land and sky, and a monstrous black cloud mushroomed in seconds. Devastation had ensued as blue sky turned black, and it seemed only minutes before heavy ash and chunks of pumice began to fall. It my young mind, it was like the end of the world, and indeed it was for many that day. There were nearly 60 deaths attributed to the eruption, some of whom vanished forever, never to be found. In May of 1997, a visitor center was established and dedicated to David Johnston, a vulcanologist with the USGS, who lost his life in the eruption. I made the journey shortly after its opening, to observe the once mighty and vibrant woods spilled out like gray toothpicks as far as one could see, and the mountain, now 1000 feet shorter, a frightful remnant of it's former self. Today she sits quietly, with blankets of new snow, but a lingering potential, as she remains the most historically active mountain in the Cascade range. Still, I stay close to home as I continue to live in the Pacific Ring Of Fire, presently not far from another freshly erupting volcano. Mt Redoubt has now given me another ashy experience to remember, and my children will tell their children all about it someday.

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