The Beauty of Iztaccihuatl
The Beauty of Iztaccihuatl Buttery clouds collide with the rigid terrain of a warrior’s scarred back, and as hoarse winds howl, his cries become whispers - faded by the laughter of children. The children race the clouds to the summit, longing to be swallowed by Earth’s white comfort, they plan to ride the beastly clouds into battle. Popocatepetl, once dormant now weeps. A sticky ash turns his once bright snow tops into tar. In tribute to his lover, his ice freezes clear to create mirrors in each of the Earth’s crevices, displaying his neighboring beauty, Iztaccihuatl. As the children attempt to rein the soft gray fog, his summit reveals, to them, her spellbinding beauty. Once a daughter to an Aztecan chief, she is now nothing but a silhouette that lays silent, shaped by a thin shroud of snow. Ripples in the mountain mimic her once lively curls, and white trees line the hills of her breasts and curve through the valley of her navel. The children watch her ...
