jam broken fingers into unforgiving rock
stab stones beneath fingernails
cut the quick and pack with dirt.
pry and force then heave the body up.
repeat.
thin air cannot fill to capacity
lungs which crave more oxygen
than their shape can stand to keep.
another foot, another five.
repeat.
repeat.
repeat.
The whipping Wind and Its gentle Breezes call
whispering of wings, aeries and westerlies.
scorn the Voice and clamber on, this vertical my only chance
to gain ground, gain purchase, gain peace.
devoted to this ritual of pull and ******, panic and strive
a wreckage of creature-form smeared across the escarpment.
grapple for territory but don't look down--
below is the Dark
i thought i left so far below.
it haunts my shadow, dogs my ragged breaths
it's gaping maw hangs open, ready
to swallow me whole.
The Wind beckons:
Let go.
The dark follows all who try to scale the face.
Let go and I will catch you.
"No.
I've come so far.
I've earned too much."
broken knuckles and gashed shins scream
at the injustice of this siren call
to fail, to quit, to concede my only way to the summit
and now it is nearer than ever---
though to my eyes it remains the nightmare
it has always seemed.
Rest and breathe.
Feel you form and know yourself.
You were not built to climb and crawl;
You are no worm nor serpent.
What have you done to your skin that it does not feel?
What have you done to your eyes that they cannot see?
that melodic muttering rustles within
stirring something deep below my wind beaten flesh--
STOP.
Cram shut ears and struggle on, and do not hear Wind's whisper.
Ascend though arms seem insufficient to the task.
raking desperately with bloodied fingers against the wall
a sudden answering rip sears across the back.
white hot pain etches its sign into weathered skin
and is then soothed by a flowing trickle of warmth.
scarlet drips onto my legs, my heels
staining, painting treacherous footholds
as marrow pulls against my spine
in shapes heavy and cramped
in their first taste of life.
swoon, overtaken by the struggle so long nursed against the rock
and the war of transformation waged against shoulder blades--
vision blurs then swirls
hands grip then slip
seek then lose
frantic, thrashing about for a hold:
no promise given by the stone.
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
plummeting
unstoppable
acceleration
Let go, arms outstretched.
This action, flight's only catch.
the Wind's plea scarcely able to be disobeyed
let go or fall, i am lost to the cliff all the same.
soaring downward masses at my back
snap and crunch taking shape
though dripping still from their curious birth
hopeless now but to trust
to try in ways so unlike striving
*and let the Wind take me.
on faith and trust. certainly one of my longest poems.
this is a third draft that may need some further work.