Spiral - poem
Her feet pounding, heels
never touching the steps, her
toes settling and
sprining away,
Step
And
Fly.
Her adrenaline would never give out
For a good day, now,
And she still had yet to reach that point of utter,
Unreachable, looming pain.
It
Sat.
Staring, beckoning, so for the summit she fought,
Arms pumping at her sides, splaying the wall with her
Sweat and receiving
Nothing
From their blackened stances and
Nothing
In response to her feet's twapping as she mounted the next level
and the next and the next and
Nothing from the tower's silenced years of self-absorption
and abandonment as she spiraled upwards in heaving,
bloodied gulps of air and
nothing from the desensitized thundering of her heart.
It
Sat.
And while she could perceive
The pain, it was never to the degree for which she longed,
Never to the degreee that would rupture her apathy
and show her, horror
and agony
and grief
and envy
and hopelessness
and hope ..... and faith.