Getting a grip

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

I sweat just to think about it

This climb up and down

With nothing more than

Fingers and toes to grip with,

The lip of it hanging over me

Like a cliff that might tumble

Down at any time,

This life of risk,
this grip on the tip of it,

Both hands too moist

At the palms to keep me

From slipping
and still I climb,

Pushing myself up

And into each crevice

Feeling the fabric against me

As I move one precious inch

After another,

Aching over progress made

Fearing a back fall so I cling

The sweat dribbling down

From brows to eyes to mouth

So I taste the salt of it,

Get drunk on it,

And the pursuit of it,

The ache to over come

And keep climbing,

Often with no other purpose

Than to see what lies
over the other side,

To see if I can reach it,

Knowing that there will always be

More of it to climb

And stare over

When I finally manage it.