I have not yet climbed to the summit,
But I know the weight of the pack
Shifting from hip to hip, focusing
On one step, then another, then
Another. Counting them off
In tens, leaning into the exhale,
And knowing my lungs
Will respond in kind.

Even if every part of my body aches
And the peak stays out of reach,  
I am cognizant of the tiniest line
Of pink on the distant horizon,
And the slow, slow graduation
Of light. My chest flutters, my heart
Too big for my body now because up
Here, up here, it feels like as close
To heaven as I could be.  Even now

The mountaineering atheists trail behind,
Lost in their sad short-sightedness
That this could be anything less than divine.

Oh you, daybreak on mountain peak,
How could I do anything now
Except trust the unfolding of things?

Libby Wagner

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