Story, Value, and Becoming More Real
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The Rocks Will Cry Out

April 18, 2024

Hillevi Peterson

More than a few years ago, I came to Rocky Mountain National Park to find healing for my soul. I felt tainted by sins of my youth and questioned if God could ever use me again. I would get up at sunrise to hike into the mountains to pray alone. I asked God for a glimpse of Heaven so that I might be assured of my salvation. Instead, He allowed me to be immersed in His creation. Each morning I wept, overwhelmed by the beauty around me and the indescribable peace within. Then I heard His voice gently chide me; You can barely contain the beauty of this world; how could I show you even a flash of what is to come?

I am drawn by dawn

to the foot of the mountain,

called to ascend by a restless spirit within.

I follow a path that is mottled by sun shadows 

as it shimmers from droplets of dew’s morning dance. 


A sensory banquet of the evergreen forest calls, 

Come and take in resin’s sweet, scented beads.

So I breathe

and I listen 

as glacial snows are transformed 

to a symphony roaring with the promise of spring.


Omniscient Father — I stand alone

with my soul naked and secrets displayed,

awaiting my death from inner disillusion.

Then I hear your voice call me to

Be still and know that I am God.


I am wordless

and powerless,

I feel insignificant as I scan the horizon

to behold the magnitude of earthly creation as it wakes.

The birth of a day with no labor pains.

The death of a night with no sorrow.


Here the rising sun offers the illumination of life.

Genesis is acknowledged as the moss rose awakens

and fern fronds unfold.

And I, in that moment of triune metamorphosis —

am changed from temporal being

into a Child of God.


I was drawn by the dusk

to the foot of the mountain

that calls me to descend by a spirit at rest within.

The last stanza of the hymn

is repeated by the wind,

and the “Amen” is given by the rocks

which the waters have baptized.


O Holy Place, needing no sanctuary built by man.

O Call of God, not beckoned by guilt and shame.

No broadcast reminders of your needs —

for you. O God, have none.


I am called by prayer

into the night,

unable to speak of Bridal Secrets.

I ponder the joining of my life into His

as wonder embraces this wordless love 

bringing absolute communion of spirit and mind.


I was not courted by pomp or pastoral promise,

nor prompted with volume to repent and believe.

Rather, I was born through the silent confirmation

of faith in a sacrifice

made in my place.

And when he was come nigh, even now at the descent of the mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had seen; saying, Blessed be the King that cometh in the name of the Lord: peace in heaven, and glory in the highest.

And some of the Pharisees from among the multitude said unto him, Master, rebuke thy disciples.

And he answered and said unto them, I tell you that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out.

—Luke 19: 37-40 KJV

The featured image is courtesy of Sam Keyes and is used with his kind permission for Cultivating.


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  1. Laurie Gustke says:

    You know I love your poetry, my friend, and this is absolutely beautiful. It perfectly captures the longing in all of our hearts. Keep writing your wonderful poems. God has given you quite a gift!

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