Free Climber

You are the mountain;

I, the free climber,

In awe of you

And timid,

Yet I ascend.

Parts of you open.

My fingers and toes

Take foothold in

Your stoic rock face,

The backbone of your Spirit.

But I, too eager,

Unsteady, I slip,

No rope to spot my fall.

Harder, I grip;

Upward, I embrace

The expanse of you:

Cold slate, blue shadow,

Whispers of wind entwine us.

You have me against you.

I am you;

I am the peak of you,

All around us the stars.



© Copyright 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard


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