What are we
doing here?
In this place,
the home of all our miseries.
It has to be
something like
despondency
that keeps us coming back
to the site of our ultimate failures.
It’s like we’re made
to break,
so we can be built again,
stronger.
Facing an always greater
and greater fear.
Climbing high
into the atmosphere.
Reaching out
into the great unknown.
Higher and higher,
until
we fall
back down
to the ground
and we lay there
broken
for a little while.
We always seem to mend
and stitch together wings
to fly again.
Or find another mountain
we can climb.
“We’re gonna make it this time.”
We believe the line.
This is what
we are doing here.
Healing,
waiting,
for our next run.
Time to fight the odds again.
Even though we are from here,
we must know we don’t belong here.
Home must be elsewhere.
Beyond pain,
and doubt,
and fear.
HG – 2019
