But rocks are hard
And buttocks are soft
And the two do not
Good bedfellows make
And I cannot remain here,
And so I climb,
Again,
Scrabble painfully up the scarp,
Again,
Towards the light
Of a sun which seems
So very far
And unfeeling
In an azure sky that
Holds little hope
But each painful inch
Is one less in the shade,
Every focused lever against the
Gravity of pain and loss
Removes me from its grasp
A little more,
Until eventually the suns rays
Start to penetrate the cloak
Of my depressed state
And even my wracked muscles
Start to warm and,
At the cliff top from whence I fell,
I spy that rock which my back
Missed still stood in place
Where it always was
Did I lean the wrong way
Or did it wobble?
Or was it a bit of both?
Either way it feels stable now
A rock
On which I pause to lean