stoic, solid, staggering.

I free climb in awe

of you.

Timid, I ascend.

Parts of you open.

My fingers and toes take hold

on your stoic rock face,

spine of your spirit.

But I, too eager,

slip. No rope

to spot my fall.

Harder, I grip.

Upward, I embrace

the expanse of you:

cold slate, blue shadow.

Wind whispers entwine us.

You have me now

against you.

I am you,

the peak of you.

All around us,

the stars.

©Barbara Leonhard,, (poetry podcast, Poetry: The Memoir of the Soul)

Image: Pixabay by darksouls1

This poem is a revision of “Free Climber” from June 24, 2017. The first draft, written in the late 70s, has seen many revisions.

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