Get Your Premium Membership

Camp 4

CAMP 4 ‘If I die, I die.’ The realness of those words sent a shiver down my spine as I listened to the climbers. It was late autumn, 1969. There was a pause after his words and each face made the slightest nod peering deeply into the flames; Tom Bauman had just soloed the Nose. Slowly, I began to put pitons into the face of life, jammed my fist into fissures, and ascended slowly. I delighted when my blood dripped onto the dark diorite veins in the granite. For this is life and I believe in the challenge of the ascent and the use of a life to outlive it. It is now the winter of 2014, and I wander through Camp 4. I look at the young, intense faces as they to peer into the flames. I would share with them what has been my own first ascent, but Tom lives on, so I scream to a startled camp my tribute to life: ‘If I die, I die.’

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 12/15/2020 11:36:00 AM
Chas, I love the dark, intense, yet vibrant quality of this piece. I especially enjoy the alliteration and duality of the lines "I delighted when my blood dripped onto the dark diorite veins of the granite." Using 'veins' like this was clever. Great job.
Login to Reply
Date: 12/15/2020 1:21:00 AM
This is very Good I like it
Login to Reply