To Strive

A series of accidents culminates
in a long drop, only stopped
by hitting bottom--

and expelled, gasping,
into a room full of
watchful eyes and closed hearts,
I begin to climb.
Running before I can walk,
singing before I can speak;
through rose-colored glasses,
I can't see the cliffs looming large,
or all those scaly, clawed hands
reaching out from the shadows:
in ignorance, I am fearless.

Slowly, I learn;
childhood flees
in the face of the unspeakable,
comfortable illusions vanish,
everything dank and rotten and wrong
is magnified beyond reason;
I am lost, my purpose misplaced,
crowded out of mind by
bitter regret and clammy apprehension...
but still I advance.

Into the heights, below: the abyss.
Light-headed and feeble,
every precious inch
is an eternity of struggle and pain,
with no predetermined outcome
to comfort or assuage;
there is only me.
And with each crystal shard in my palm,
dizzying seconds paid for in blood
and the stink of terror my constant companion,
I chant to the rhythm of my shallow breath:

somewhere up there, there is freedom,
somewhere up there, there is light.
I will reach the top.