Climbing
Fuck.
Another chunk of my flesh gone, spiraling down into the canyon below.
I carved it off myself, an axe against the mountain, digging in, a missed whack.
I’m trying to pull myself up.
This peak is endlessly tall.
I look up and it unfolds further before me, looming ever-higher.
How long until I reach the top? I’m free climbing, attached to nothing
Just my hands, shoes, and tools against the earth.
Mother.
Father.
Why have you forsaken me?
I send my pick into the mountainside again, a crumble of rocks shatter against its worn edge. They spray across my face and I hear them clink down the ridge.
Cool wind causes me to brace, yet I don’t fear a fall. I welcome it.
No, no.
That would be certain death. I return to my efforts.
Another minute, another hour. A year. A decade, three.
Time yawns on infinitely.
Please, gods. Let me reach the peak.
I look up again, finally, the dead air whining in my ear like a squealing pig.
I haven’t moved an inch, not the tiniest increment of progress made.
“WHY?!” What puzzle is this, what maze, what illusion?! Why create a peak if it’s not meant to be reached?!
My screams echo around me and the wind returns, screaming back.
It’s time to jump.
I release my axe in a swift motion, he disappears into a long nothing beneath me.
Soundless.
I push myself off against the mountain wall, to hasten the end, to speed the fall.
I let go.
I land, alive—on my face.
Beautiful, warm earth holds me.
I spit a modicum of dirt from between my two teeth.
Sheer shock blooming, I am whole!
Inexplicable magic;
I’ve reached the peak!
How did I get here?
Rest.
I breathe, she breathes.
There’s nowhere to go from here.
Nothing to do, nothing to climb.
I stretch myself across the ground, facedown, an earthbound star.
Oh, the things to be gained from letting go.
