Skip to main content

On Remembering That I Used to Climb

The call of the wall,
periodical, methodical ascent with intent.
Route schematic;
left-foot, right-hand,
right-foot, left-hand,
leap and swing,
match and detach and on to the next.
Choosing, falling, grooving and improving.

Next day, wrists of clay,
crumbled and stiffened,
once agile, now fragile
to any of the many daily demands on the hands.

The habit was leaving on a wind of healing,
fraught and caught and taken away,
to be perennially a memory,
a delight consumed by the violent bite of history.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Elemental Rift 1: This is Desert

This is desert. The heat drains my energy, until it feels like my soul has been pulled through my crown. When I try to look around, all I feel is my body churning, my head still, as if fixed on a screen. I rub my eyes and they fill with sand. The dunes rise, and lash at my body. I'm simultaneously elevated, to break down in the same scene, and also buried; smothered beneath the weight of sand. This eternal cycle. I rub my eyes and they fill with sand, clarity failing, horizon constraining, I am the water that takes the shape of what is around, and here is shapeless shifting. This is desert. [Inspired by the music of Ben Howard and John Luther Adams]
Post a Comment
Read more

I Witnessed Icarus

"That's not what really happened. Everyone says it was going well until he went too high. But I was there, ploughing by the wet pebbles.  "I'd looked up from my work tempting the wrath of the boss, and I saw someone on the pier being forced into shoddy wings. "They never got above the water. Their feet skimmed it briefly, but there was never time to soar and the weight of those wings in the water, dragged them down. "The spin machine started quickly and the story couldn't be Icarus had no choice and no chance . That doesn't work like Don't be as greedy as Icarus ."
Post a Comment
Read more

In Conversation

They told him he was beautiful and, until the sun dipped behind the horizon, he was. They told him he was strong and, until he became weary, he forced everyone from his path. They told him he was an explorer and, until the cold winds became too strong, he went where he'd never been before. They told him he was a man and he tried to work out what they meant.  When he asked himself what matters, he crumbled. When enough had fallen away, they rebuilt. When they told themselves they were loveable, they were. When they told themselves they were beautiful, they were. When they told themselves they could cope, they did. and when they stopped to listen, all was transformed. 
Post a Comment
Read more