The Mountain

So high up,

the air is thinner.

The wind blows

almost constantly.

My bitter friends,

my ravaged ego,

left below

many miles ago.


Still ascending;

all there is up here

is the mountain,

the sky

and what I’ve left behind.

The bitterness,

the disappointment,

that dogged me in my life.


The Octopus,

the Praying Mantis;

never dragged me down,

or devoured my head

and trust me,

it was not for lack of trying.

I still have all the scars

and the traumas.


Everyone said,

those battles were unwinnable,

but here I am;

seeking certain death

upon a mountain side,

with no more light to guide me.

Knowing that my bones

will decorate the way,

if I do not survive.


What am I trying to find?

What prize lies

on the summit of this

seemingly insurmountable

path to nowhere?

I don’t know anymore;

other than the view,

and the clean air,

and the likelihood

that it will be just me

and the sky

and everything else

will be beneath me.

Behind me.


No hope for wisdom,

but maybe a little peace.

Up here,

higher than I’ve ever been.


by the height.


Maybe I’ll never come down.

Maybe I won’t come back

to the lower world.

How much could I miss,

when it’s just me

and the sky

and forever?


I know I’ll make the attempt

to pick my way

back down the scree and talus

to be with the world again,

but I will always miss


up in the air,

with the sky

and the mountain.

Closer to God

than I have ever been.


HG – 2018

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