The Climb
Drag. Drag. I drag this pile
Trudging through acres upon dirt
My nails digging helplessly into mud
Mud creeping in skin through the nails
Nailing me back to the bottom
I rest my blunted face down in earth.
Breathe in damp smells of petrichor
I lift my bloody knees and anchor them
Pushing myself further up the mountain
Along and along I bludgeon forward
Pulling my pile of waste and dreams.
Carrying expectations packed in a thousand empty boxes
Made heavy by pain of unfulfilled goals
Yet I push and I push
And I don't stop
I will not die here on this one last deed
Forgotten and given up
I will claw further till my hands bleed
And try and try until I do
I see the lone shrub at the top
And my pace quickens to a rhythmic climb
My goal having materialised
I lift off my hands as I near the top
And leap into the air from an anchored pounce
I grab onto the shrub and await the sound of uprooting snaps as it breaks from ground
Yet no sounds arise...
I open my eyes
and look up -
My hand clasped around the tiny bit of life
I look down to find my pile disappeared
Having snapped off with its weight from my desperate jump
And fallen into the emptiness below
I look back up at the shrub above
And drag myself onto the summit
I lay panting and half laughing
On the forgotten grass of the top
staring into the sun above -
I smile in grateful remembrance