Mountain,
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, https://extraordinarysunchineweaver.blog, meelosmom.podbean.com (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.
Love the ending and the union of all things it reflects.
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Thank you! 🌹❤️
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This could easily be about the experience of learning to know someone well enough to consider them an intimate.
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Yes, quite true!
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