I didn't climb a mountain,
I was buried under one,
a mountain made of remarks.
layered like shale.

I swallowed stones
and my voice turned fossil.
I was hiked upon, walked over.
But I learned
to breathe through cracks,
to listen for tremors,
to make way for waterfalls.

Kept carving escape routes,
by dissolving sediments,
by flooding,
by shifting.

I didn't climb out,
I eroded through,
with acid rain.

My venture wore dentures,
and grinned through the runoff.