The Hill

You’re back –

back in the game without a rooftop on the hill,

so all you can do is keeping climbing,

climbing.

Your voice

has carried over centuries to long lost poets

and scribes of the West who craved fresh water

and sweet air just as my lungs call out now.

Your hope

will always be here, especially at the moments

you make it.  You stride. The path leads up

to a perfect glow of light and you can perch

your pride on the line and call out, “I’m free.”

August 28, 2013

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