Sheila Busteed
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The Climb

16/6/2017

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"The Climb"
A   P O E M   B Y   S H E I L A   B U S T E E D

Picture
Perched on a volcanic rock, neck cranked toward the sky
In wonder, I stare at those steps, raised to the heavens.
My pace set by lapping waves, a whirling wind fills me
With fresh, salty fuel as I begin the arduous climb.
Sweat from my lip won't slake mounting thirst under this glare
As the ascent grows steeper and clifftop abodes draw near.
Breathlessness compels a pause, and yet I still refuse
To join a passing mule train and its filthy chauffeur.
καλημέρα! he beckons through his yellow-toothed grin.
I press on in my trek up, pursuing the oasis,
To look upon a place more peaceful than any other –
Shimmering boats, sapphire waters, and a cloudless sky.
With shaking knees and lungs aflame, I reach the top
And seek out an icy Mythos to enjoy in the shade.
Picture
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