Now comes the steep climb
where rocks work loose
and the foot slips and dirt
tumbles. Sometimes you’re erect
other times bent over, or collapsed against
a tree or wall or stone, whatever
will hold you up.
What is clear now, were you to fall:
the path behind you is gone,
swallowed by roots and brambles
and dense cover.
With time, the heart
adapts, courage comes
in small dribbles, water
at the head of a spring.
For now, all there is, is the climbing,
one weary foot above the other.
May love with its secret footholds
carry you to a peaceful place
where you see beyond
the haunting beauty of all
that came before.