Anna Makoujy | + Follow Poet |
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Fear of Ladders

One time, when I was about
eight or nine, 
Poppa climbed up onto the roof.
He was fixing something
(I don't remember what)
but he called me up.
He wanted me to see 
the sunset
uninterrupted by the houses
and trees of the neighborhood.

It was my first time
up high
and as I ascended
my hands gripped tight
to the cold aluminum of the ladder
bare toes curled
like talons
around the rungs.
Safety was gone
as the ground was left behind;
I looked down
and saw the soft green grass
and earth waiting beneath
and shook.
My eyes moistened and I blinked
trying to quell my fear
but still, I shook.

My knees rattling together 
like tambourines
I held on tight but lost control,
my head spinning.
In my moment of panic
I leapt. 
Fear had driven me,
propelled me from my perch
because, in my dizziness
I thought the ladder was falling.

There I lay
my knees caked in dirt
and grass stains
from where I landed,
my legs hurting from
the impact of landing
(not a bit gracefully).
I sat up and stared
at the ladder, rising high above
and knew I would not try again.

To this day
I have not conquered my fear:

But another ladder calls
-a stepping stool-
to that larger world 
I cannot see
for my view from earth
is obstructed by houses and trees.

I pinch my eyes closed
and feel blindly
for that bottom step
of cold metal upon flinching skin
and climb.
I grip tightly to the handholds
allowing aluminum to cut
into my fleshy palms
for the scars will serve to remind
of fear conquered.
Step by step I rise
higher towards the blue heavens
knees knocking the whole way.
I keep my lids tightly shut
for then there is no illusion
of tipping ladders.
Don't jump! Don't jump!
No blind leaps of faith!
Rather, a blind step towards
an unobstructed sunset.
As I climb skyward, blindly
I feel my face begin to heat
from the rays of sun that peer
over the crest of the roof.
Is it safe? 
May I open my eyes?

With tender uncertainty
my lids lift
and my eyes are blessed with the sight
of a bird's eye view of unblocked
light;
the sun bathed in 
rainbow hues
of tangerines and 
night influenced magentas.

My eyes behold
the setting sun
Apollo, receding below the horizon
as the night begins to cloak the world
in naught but dark and starry skies.

I have seen -at last-
the beautiful sun's descent.
I have conquered my ladder.

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