Desolate

(Poem inspired by this excerpt from IMAX documentary ‘The Alps’ (2007) and the traditional Cretan song ‘On a High Mountain – The Eagle)

Desolate
I hang off a crag
high up
its smooth surface
pressing against me
pushing me up

the snow turns about my face
its spray stings my
youthful cheeks
delicate and tender
my fingers torn and bloody
cling desperately

pulling, slipping
my soles unable to grip
the cold, hard slate
whose whisper
incessantly desires
to penetrate and ravage

enduring degradation
indignity
I await the eruption
that comes
as the clouds dissipate
and the cold settles

taking my final breath
the sun rises
mingling, softening
the surface which
lifts me up
just as I let go

its light force
propels
I fall
deep into
the unknown
abyss

I thrust my arms
to grasp the
razor sharp air
crisp and cold
being gifted
darkness

now free to be
to create
from the beginning
I found on
death
a new life

Colours woven
nobility, courage
love of honour
the beauty suffocates
and I release a cry
of joy

Emerging from the
abyss
I find that we
are at the peak
bathed in light
alive

 

 

 

 

 

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