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The Mountain

By Muriel Palanca



I think of all I have endured to get to where I am.

Through rain and snow and freezing cold, I still have strength to stand.

I can’t believe I got this far, I tried and failed so many times.

I got so used to starting over, never crossing the finish line.

I never touched the frosted trees or admired the steel grey sky.

I took in air for mercy’s sake, never just to feel alive.

I only looked for quicker routes. I never marveled at the view.

I never thought that inner strength would be something I’d die to prove.

I never bowed in perfect awe to a piece of heaven I could climb.

All I saw was a mountain peak to be conquered and made as mine.

Its simple beauty escaped my eyes because I always searched for something more.

Now that I’m close to my goal, what have I done this for?

I’m almost there, two steps away, but there’s still so much I haven’t learned,

Like why each snowflake’s different, or if I scream will I be heard?

A shining moment of praise and glory, a great achievement within my grasp,

But if I am to stake my claim, I know it would be my last.

Looking from this mountain high to the ground that’s down below,

I hope I never reach the summit because then there’s nowhere left to go.

I close my eyes, I make a choice. I know it’s right, I turn around.

While the wind stays at my back, I make my trek back down.

A mountain climbed but unexplored wouldn’t mean a thing at all.

And if I ever reached the top, it would be a long way down to fall.