I try to climb.
With each step I tremble with fear
That the next will be my last
The higher I go, the more I fear
Not always of falling,
But of what will happen
When I get to the top
I can’t wait for it to be over,
For everything to be easy again,
For the wild storm around me to cease
Is it of any use to complain, I ask.
What is going to happen will happen
I can’t change that.
But I’m wrong.
I get distracted, and with a quiet cry
At the bottom again,
I am far below the storm
But I can see it above me
I know I have to pass through it
To get where I want to be.
That’s when hope whispers
“Try it one more time”
I take a feeble step upwards
Then another, then another
I’m almost to the storm.
Fear tells me to give up, to not even try
That it’s better to stay where I am
That my dream isn’t worth it.
That I'm not good enough to keep my grip.
I almost listen.
Then hope tells me,
How do I know I’m not good enough,
If I don’t give myself the opportunity to be good?
The storm howls
Debris all around me
Rain splashing my face,
Blending in with my tears
The sun shines again.
I made it.
I am the one that decides my future.
I am the one that decides what will happen.
It’s up to me.
Life is never easy,
But how do we become sharper tools
Without something to sharpen us?