Rock

(A poem about a hike that has given me strength, clarity, and peace in the past year)

Climbing, always climbing, trying to reach, trying to grasp, trying to conquer, trying to perfect.

The long walk to the base, black pavement, blinding sun, dogs chasing, hot, dry, dry heat, sunburned shoulders, no shade, cars whizzing around corners, angry sun, hot, hot.

The stairs, Nature's Stairmaster, winding, slipping, steep, steeper, wet rocks that never see the sun, spiders and their invisible webs, the bats' cries from their deep caves, humid, dark, only patches of sunlight, harder to breathe, quads burning, lungs burning, contacts burning, sweat dripping, wet, wet.

The rock, the sudden wind, the climb, the challege, the view, my God, the view, the adrenaline, the fear, the slipping grip, the focus, the determination, the muscles rippling, my arms failing, the elusive footholds, no more pain, no more fear, can't feel the pain, gotta get to the top, the top.

The top, the wind, the peace, the waves that crash upon the reef, that white foam, the toy boats, the airstrip, the entire airstrip, the pineapple bushes ripping ankles open, the scuttling crabs, the drop, my God, the drop, the fear and wonder, anxiety and awe, the wind, the view, my God, that view, the birds that soar, the view, the view.