The Climb

Hanging by needles thread,

Finger tips whitened like rope silk spiders web,

Webbed single strand of hair,

Loose, Loose and threadbare.

 

Rope a flame is lit,

Lit by memories shame,

It burns these bloodied palms,

There is no more bloodied grip to gain.   

 

One slightest tilt I’ll be cast down into shadows,

Shadows, shadowing their casting flowers do wilt,

The long drop delayed by a crushing,

A crushing sorrows guilt.

 

Fragile and weak

Outlook as cold as winter is bleak,

Summer days a memory too fragile,

Too fragile a memory to speak.

 

I keep this match flickering

By its golden ruby side,

It’s fading on the edge 

But remains flickering,

Flickering, I remain alive.

 

There is still strength in these bloodied palms

Muscle and sinew secure these bloodied lactic arms.

Gritted teeth, fermented eyes,

I only look skyward towards blue,

Blue tearless skies.

 

I’ll continue this climb upward,

Up this darkened rise.

Ahead there is only blue,

Blue only skies.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

11 thoughts on “The Climb

  1. Beautifully written Charlie, well done. The blue sky is always there, even if we sometimes have to search for a hole in the clouds. If you look up long enough you will also see the hands, reaching down to lift you.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh yeah !… u portray pain… end with hope and cover the insides of ur poem with early morning chick down… each word is fresh … each one new… sensitively portraying life … hats off to ur craftsmanship

    Liked by 1 person

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