Snow Leopard, Protector of Sacred Mountains

Artwork & Poetry Contest – 2024

POETRY FINALISTS

 Adult 18 & Over

Snow Cat Stretching Out

by Becky Norman

“Mergichan*,” they breathed, with reverence.
Woman shifting with the snow,
Swirling down the mountainside,
Caressing the ibex, fluttering the flags,
Dancing in the deep crevasse.

Woman shifting with the snow –
Guardian of the mountain,
Protectress of the people –
Brown eyes morphing into grey,
Sable hair shifting to plush fur.

Guardian of the mountain –
Snow cat stretching out,
Adjusting to sinew, padded paws,
Impossibly long tail –
Swirling down the mountainside.

Snow cat stretching out,
Chuff-chanting words of protection,
Gliding miles along the top of the world,
Small traces left as evidence of her passing.
“Mergichan,” they breathed, with reverence.

*The Wakhi are a group of people native to northern Pakistan, China, Tajikistan and Afghanistan. They believe that supernatural beings, called mergichan, inhabit the high mountains of the region. The mergichan are holy and very powerful, and so the area they inhabit is pure and sacred. The Wakhi believe the mergichan often take the form of a Snow Leopard, since the animal exemplifies many of the qualities of the mergichan: elusive, powerful, beautiful, and potentially dangerous.

A Metamorphosis After Milarepa

by Sarah Mills

Over a steaming bowl of yak butter tea,
The Rinpoche spoke softly and reverently
Of a saint who lived nearly a thousand years ago
Who in the Great Cave of Conquering Demons
Was lost to his people by the falling snow.

That night I tried to summon the tale
Of the curious white leopard his disciples had seen,
Of the protector’s eyes on that distant rock,
Two cabochons of the coolest green.

But sleep was broken as the rugged cliffs I call home
And unable to balance on the ledge of a dream,
I almost woke to the scree
Gently
Rolling down the slopes,
Every heartbeat disguising each falling stone.

Then all of a sudden I opened my eyes,
No longer did they feel wholly mine
For I had seen through Panthera uncia’s gaze
The birth of sacred mountains
And for better or worse,
The passage of time.

Keeper of the Kyrgyz

by Sarah Mills

I may not understand the words of the elders
But as their tongues cast the alpenglow over each sacred peak
I know at last of whom they speak
For there is one descended from a warrior khan
With eyes like the globeflower of the Tien Shan,
A totem animal of the great Manas,
Protecting the high mountains and all who pass.

And in the valleys rosetted with the shadows of my fears
She is custodian, the Ak Ilbirs,
Stalking despair, horned and fast,
Her pelt dusted with the ashes of ancestors past.

Oh how I long to be like her,
Embodying the spirit of noble Sher
But she alone is the sentinel,
Existing where others dare not hope to dwell.

I may not see that trenchant stare
But in the pearl waters of Issyk Kul
I know at last who is there
For she is one who mews in the heart of man
With all the power of a castellan,
A symbol of what the tribes do trow,
Defending her fort of rock and snow.

Should The Nagas Be Abandoned

by Paul Espinoza

Beneath the Frozen Veil

by Chantal Flores

For ages of stillness
Have I been your faithful companion
For innumerable frigid nights
Have you watched over me.
To me they have been one precious, sleepless moment.
Though our bond has been perfection
I sense you leaving.
Have I not done my best for you and cub?
Was there no true kinship in our shared breath?
With you gone
My sanctity is threatened.
With you gone
My eternity is solitude.
Stay: I will be your home and caregiver, Spirit of the Mountains.
Should you go – be kept well by foreign friends
And, return to embrace me in great numbers.
Always will I await you.
For neither distance nor time can extinguish your memory…

*Naga in Sanskrit means mountain

In the stark monochrome of black and white,
A spirit prowls, beyond the mortal sight.

The snow leopard, a guardian of the heights,
Embodies nature’s sacred, wild delights.

Its piercing gaze, a window to the soul,
Reflects a wisdom that cannot be controlled.

This feline force, so ancient and so true,
Connects us to the realms we cannot view.

The brushstrokes dance, a mystical display,
Unveiling realms where spirit holds its sway.

This canvas, a portal to the unseen,
Invites us to explore the in-between.

The snow leopard’s presence, a sacred call,
To commune with forces greater than us all.

In its frozen form, a spirit takes flight,
Guiding us towards a transcendent light.

It Is I The Snow Leopard

by Sharise Bailey

Reengaging With Sacred Sites

by Emma Lee

Mystical ethereal Panthera uncia…
On the prowl, making rounds upon the mountain.
Consistently getting those daily steps in without a tracker…
Ounce your elusiveness is mystified, the vibration of your presence resonates across cultures and traditions due to the open channel between you and the divine.
Your camouflage had you ghosting way before it became a thing…
The release of your mighty roar reverberates and purifies Indigenous souls as you find comfort within the snow.
A felid of great significance on an alpine high.
You deserve all the appaws.
It is with immense reverence we show you love and thank you for being “The Snow Leopard, Protector of Sacred Mountains.”

Suppressing cultures leads to losses:
heritage of knowledge, forgetfulness.
Icons lose their significance. Losses
mount: living is all precariousness:
a potential loss of income, supplies;
an inhumane imbalance. Mountain ghosts
prevent overeating which devastates
grasslands that protect soil, maintain hosts.

But money talks. Wealthy trophy hunters
enchanted by a mountain ghost are no
better than dictators who ban cultures.
Fur rosettes should stay on skin where they grow.
The children, who show pride in snow leopard,
protectors of the mountains, understand.

Survival of the Sacred

by Terry Pfister

One morning, while wasting time to escape responsible living,
I found a video of you on the hunt for blue sheep,
breath heavy, eyes fierce,
your mottled coat blending like a wraith with the terrain
as you padded along icy paths at the top of the world.

Suddenly, you thrust yourself out and down the steep mountainside,
chasing and tumble-tackling a sheep,
rolling down and down over snow-slick cliffs,
like a wrestler, for hundreds of feet,
refusing to ever let go of your prey.

Even sacred beasts must eat.

And I knew in that moment that while you are a favorite,
dear to my heart, myth and magic and breathtaking beauty,
you are also mammal, mother, father, cub,
and mortal, vulnerable to the reckless indifference
of humans and the heat of a merciless sun.
One morning, while whiling away time to avoid a responsible life,
I found myself humbled and bent in awe,
suddenly certain in this uncertain world that
while your life is chained to an ever-changing tree line,
my soul is forever connected to your very survival.

Shadows

by Helena Mahlakallas

Protector of Sacred Mountains

by Emma Lee

So you think
Man is the master of the creation.
Climb to the highest of the mountains
and you won’t be alone
there.
You`ll be watched
from behind a rock.
Quietly
certainly.
You won`t be anything but
a possible prey
a small snack.
The true king of the mountains
is a shadow in the terrain
assured in its steps.
The snow leopard
so bold and beautiful
The King on the Mountains.

Even when frolicking, sheep and goats keep watch
up here, the rooftop of the world, where humans
weigh themselves down with layers, need time
to adjust to the lightness of the air, the extra effort
to gasp, to breathe. It takes resilience, persistence,
the ability to release negative thoughts. The snow
jewelled by a soft lens of sun, a mist creates a spiritual
glow, a sense of protection for the mountains, not yet
fully tamed by humans. A rosetted ghost, with a thick
tail for balance and warmth, rarely seen, stops livestock
overfeeding, enables growth, keeps soil intact and
pads in guardianship over the rocks with a touch
like the weight of a dewdrop on a cobweb.

The High Gate

by Kathi Lehman

The gates are open!
The high gate is open.
I saw a light on yon desolate peak,
Where dwells the leopard in stolid vigil
For the prophesied perigeal,

When the high gate opens,
And the primordial speaks.

The gates are open!
The high gate is open.
The pass is guarded by an eidolon, –
A keeper of the shadowed winding way, –
Now from the gate a blinding ray,

And as the high gate opens,
The keeper calmly looks on.

The gates are open!
The high gate is open.
From here the mountain is all aglow.
What good a visit from the other side
If only by the leopard spied?

If when the high gate opens,
The leopard alone may know?

The gates are open!
The high gate is open.
Otherworldly light spills upon the snow
And makes of the mountain a dreamlike realm, –
The moon’s own light is overwhelmed, –

And as the high gate opens,
Blue eyes reflect the glow.

The gates are open!
The high gate is open.
The message given to all livingkind?
The sacred wisdom divinely bestowed?
To the snow leopard alone it is known, –

Gleaned when the high gate opened, –
And hidden within its mind.

The gates are closed.
The high gate is closed.
On the Himalayan heights darkness descends,
But the leopard’s vigil, it does not end,
For if the signs should more portend,

And the high gate was to open,
The faithful keeper will attend.

Yearning

by Kait Walser

Quintessentially human, isn’t it? To want
more keeps us in motion. Desire demands

our breath as a toll to ascend again
and again. Altitude flexes her claws

at the throat of our motivation. And yet
the rhythm pushes on, relentless, past

lichen toward the next stony spire above.
We belay as an act of faith: trust tucked

between crumbling rockfall and our own
clattering exhales. Nothing the wind says

soothes the suspense. Still, we continue.
Honeyed sunlight rises over the horizon

of the banded pupils of an ibex. A half moon
gaze scans the rock face. Icy irises reflect

a blaze of snow across the umber landscape.
This is not his first hunt. He will not be halted

by concepts as undignified as the passage
of time. He prepares to rappel, stretching

ropey spring-loaded muscles. Transverse ridges
along the curved horns of the ibex tease at the spine

and ribs in the grip of sinews. Hunger is one hell
of a drug. Yearning, it turns out, is not reserved

for one species. We were made to reach beyond
the rational. His tail commands gravity itself.

We may reach freezing fingers toward a distant
summit. We may take a leap toward the memory

of success: how it throbbed with a pulse of its own,
how it radiated as one body rose from the rocks

below the cliff. Despite his recorded age, this
snow leopard surprises onlookers again and

again: tumbling after his prey, he becomes
an avalanche that always lands on his feet.

Youth 11 & Under

Roaring S’Mores

by Kuhu Kacher

Your glistening eyes amaze me
Dazzling through the night

You are glittery white in color
With black spots all over you,
Making you a sight to behold

Come to think about it,
You are living the life of my imaginings
In the snowiest peaks, I have eternally wished for

Enjoying life to the fullest, you beast
While we raise our bills in the hills
Even though I have never heard, you roar
I am sure you do, mighty, captivatingly s’mores

Oh! How I wish you could live with me
I do not understand why it is illegal
I think you do not even bite your friends
Please prove me right, dear s’mores

I want to tell you that I am 100% sure
I will get to see you this Christmas s’mores

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Artwork Finalists