Head down on my bike
Tears merge with sweat pouring from my face
Watching it drip onto the bike frame
Blending beautifully into one Rorschach image
My chest is so tight
I don’t know if I can breathe
My throat so constricted
I can’t stop choking through each gasp
Get out, get out, GET OUT
Why won’t it come out?
The instructor tells us to push through
Push through...
But what’s on the other side?
The pain of acknowledging the let go?
The torture of what’s next?
The waiting, and wait...ing, and waitin...g...
The vulnerability is the release
Letting go of the grip onto safety
Lifting that hand onto a new grip on the rock face
Removing one foot and jamming it into a crack
Pushing and pulling and fighting to live
Fingertips bleeding
Thighs shaking
Toes blistered
Lungs quaking
Push up. Push through. Keep pulling.
Keep climbing.
The fog below now is so enticing
Its cool embrace, soothing
But that is not where I’ll reside
The fog has settled,
But I will not.
