Poetry

Reaching for the Sky

By 7th June 2010December 9th, 2019No Comments

Above me I see a challenge,
I am ready to try, to reach for the sky
I have all I need, this habit I must feed,
One foot in front of the other,
Taught to me long ago by my mother.

With a Calming breath I step up,
Place my shoe upon the stone,
Instantly I feel that I have found my home,
On my second step, I am rising,
My enjoyment always surprising.

My friend is below, paying out as I go,
In these adventures, for me there is always two,
Ask about soloists and they say who?
The gear is heavy, glinting in the morning light,
Without it I am certain a slip, would end in flight,

I make progress, climbing high,
I rise steadily from sleep and the night,
My grip each time firm, gear placed tight,
With each step I can see much more,
As I look out, take a breath my heart can soar.

The moves are done methodically,
I place everything always with care,
My feet, hands, gear, here or there,
But there is always time,
To stop and stare, while on a climb.

The beauty of the mountains and cliffs,
All around me while I struggle up,
Makes all my emotions Erupt,
The views are beautiful, so calming,
Many natural wonders, and a bit of farming.

It has a profound effect on me,
Everything troubling, Worries and fears,
Nightmares, problems, things that bring tears,
Fall away, dropping like stones,
Strength builds back in my weary bones.

I keep progressing, reaching,
Half way from the top,
I make another stop,
With knots, Karabiners and gear,
I anchor so my friend can climb here.
When he reaches me we pause,
As we always do to swap gear,
And to take a breath, swallowing fear,
Fear is natural and right,
Any that say they have none wont see the night.

Then he is moving off, reaching above,
I pay out rope to aid his progress,
But always ready if he falls, to arrest.
To stop the flow of rope,
In the quality of his gear placement we both hope.

Many times we swap, before we reach the top,
On the last leg it is up to me,
To get us both up safely,
I am now at peace, feeling quietly calm,
This great rock seems to guard us from harm.

When at last the end I can see,
I step up over the edge and walk back,
Reaching for some gear I arrange my tack,
Happy we are both safe, I signal to him, come up,
He starts up, at the top we greet and drink from a cup.

With a smile plastered on each face,
We start to get ready for the walk down,
As we walk back I have a moments frown,
I wonder when my next chance will be to try,
To climb cold rock, reaching for the sky.

Chris Duncan

Author Chris Duncan

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