the cliff face is sheer
not in the sexy negligee way
but in the holy crap I might die
way, and the ladder trembles
because it is old and unsteady
and has been exposed to the elements
and years (how many??) of wear
and wind and sun, and not
just because my frame
vibrates as I cling, petrified
yet somehow moving one foot
determined, concentrated, tortuously
slow, down
rung by rung
and it holds and I’m not dead
or falling, bouncing across the rock face
so I move the next foot
leaden yet beset with tremors
until it finds purchase on a greyed
perch, here in midair, terrified.
there is no breath, yet a heart
hammering fast as hummingbird wings.
the wind pries at my balance
as it eddies, mocking me and my
acrophobia. finally there is rock
awaiting quivering soles, and I
scamper, blindered and winded
to a ledge approximately level.
I grin with panicky relief
having beaten back a demon
as I clamber toward the next
because
there are sites to be seen
fears to conquer
trails to hike and
just, because
