The Climb I

Hard the climb
the end unknown
cling to the cliff
bear the wind moan
see the jagged points
the outcrops clasped
the dark openings slanting in
and beneath all the
noise of churning water rises
rises where
the darkness steams -
see where you've been -
you have the
stitched skin, chipped
heart, ragged
soul to prove the pale
climb real, path marked,
your ascent rises into
uncertain terrain stretches
ahead into pain into
spinning head into
wariness and the mists
shift before the next
handhold  arrives, difficult grasp,
there is no other way
you  can go except
onward,  the only way
to move  is up, to prove
the past real and gone
to seal your grip on
life, its living, and
being alone.

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