1I.

Strapping on shoes

that were made for a soldier,

I look at you with the nervous gaze

of a bootcamp departure.

The jacket unzips with ease as we depart,

the sky beats down above.

Can’t the sun see we’re sweltering?

Can’t the clouds come out to play?

II

My legs are burning and it’s

because I didn’t know fire was invisible.

But this mountain is special–

I already saw that.

Its peaks are illustrated

by a craggy old man

who never put down the brush

when he dedveloped arthritis.

Or Alzheimer’s at that–

peaks end suddenly,

leaving a small animal

to scuttle to its death.

Rocks are jagged and

plants newly born

as if the ecosystem is unsure

of which direction to turn.

III

Water splashes over my face,

washing away heat

but drawing mosquitoes

like drunks to a bonfire.

Refreshing and clear,

I am revitalized.

IV

There we are.

I can see us waving

at the top of the mountain,

our lofty retreat.

Our goal.

I can recall us sweating,

can recall my tears of labor

as I pressed up the rocks.

My skin is still covered

with welts from a bug’s feast,

and my hands are black with blood and dirt.

But I see myself, reflected in the atmosphere,

and I see you, reflected in me,

and we’re at the top

because we’ve made it.