cronechronicler

Exploring the poetry of everyday life

My Dawn Wall

Climbers standing on pedestals of microscopic toe-holds
Inched upward toward the summit.
Finger’s skin scraped and torn bloody,
Spirits strong they reached their goal.
Drank sparkling wine, hugged loved ones.

Still standing on the heights
Climbers spoke to us who watched.
Hoped their assent inspires, prompts us to recall their feat
So that when we meet our own Dawn Wall one day
We’ll draw on strengths unknown within and persevere.

I think I’ve been acquainted long with my Dawn Wall.
It seems to never end. I pull and tug with obstacles
Small and insignificant. A victory is nothing to proclaim.
And yet I climb again. I solve my task and add the gain to my accumulated wisdom and rejoice.
Dawn Walls can be measurements of how we manage day by day.

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