I Climb
The dirt path quietly calls my name, gently pushing me to take the fist step.
My backpack strapped firmly along the curve of my spine, holding the very things I need to survive.
I am alone. I shiver. I move on.
I lift my eyes from the ground and remind myself I am strong.
The weight on my back brings comfort.
The weight on my soul brings pain.
Another step up the mountain. Another step toward my salvation.
Another step toward my freedom.
I climb. I listen. I climb. I look. I climb. I remember. I climb. I forget.
The sky above holds puffs of clouds safely in it's arms
I wonder if I will be so lucky to feel the same.
I feel wild. I feel free. I feel fierce.
I pray my god will protect me and teach me all I must learn along the way.
I miss my babies back home; their silhouettes shadow my every step.
My silhouette? Incomplete and cracked.
I climb. I smile. I climb. I laugh. I climb. I cry. I climb. I sob.
The birds above float rapidly by; chirping their praise to one another
I wonder if I will be so lucky to hear the same.
I feel alone. I feel tired. I feel pride.
I pray my god will take mercy on my soul and forgive me for the pain I have caused.
I miss the comfort of my home; it's smells and sounds wrap themselves around me.
My smells and sounds? Foreign and alive.
I climb. I ache. I climb. I hurt. I climb. I reject. I climb. I accept.
The trees sway peacefully in the breeze; lulling themselves to sleep
I wonder if I will be so lucky to do the same.
I feel lost. I feel broken. I feel hope.
I pray my god will shine the light of the sun on my path and the power of the moon on my camp.
I miss the life I once dreamed of; it's colorful and icy facade melts into opaque puddles at my feet.
My facade? Melts into nothing.
I climb. I grasp. I climb. I beg. I climb. I exhale. I climb. I surrender.
The mountain stands tall and proud before me; confident in its strength and ability.
I wonder if I will be so lucky to believe the same.
I feel raw. I feel forgiveness. I feel peace.
I pray my god will guide me down the mountain and gently lay me upon the doorstep of my home.
I miss the girl I hoped to become; her image never traveling far from my thoughts.
My image? Combines with hers to become whole.
I climb. I question. I climb. I atone. I climb. I greet. I climb. I arrive.
Copyright © Jen Hart | Year Posted 2016
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