Poetry 120: Second Wind

Second Wind

"Prayer is the contemplation of the facts of life from the highest point of view."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

All my life I’ve been seeking
the highest peak to climb,
but never quite known
why.

Perhaps it is because,
the perspective, from up above,
gives me a gentle reminder
of just how expansive the universe
actually is- compared
to my quarantined square of carpet
called rumination.

Or maybe, it is because

up here, all alone,
I never feel alone-
it feels like belonging.

Today, I go to the hilltop

because I need to meet
god.

Up close.

I wonder, did Jesus need the same?

Mounting the mountain,

I push until I can ascend no more.

I pick this quaint little spot,

referred to in a modest  way
as “the summit.”

I take my seat near the edge

of a cold, round rock
overlooking  the western ledge
of my old friend.

Then, the ritual is always the same.

I take in a long slow breath of clean, fresh air,
and allow the deep quiet of
the upper atmosphere
to penetrate
my many layers of thick skin.
I gently close my eyes,
and make contact.

Sitting amongst the tree tops,

at the moment of looking down
on the tall pines and leafless maples
of New England,
I am able to embody the dual perspectives
I carry deep inside.

Once again making me feel unified and whole.

Once again offering me a second wind.

And I take it-

with gratitude.

It feels like purification,

in which I grow lighter for
having lain my burden down.

Time passes.

I pick up my walking stick,

and turn toward the path made of ice and mud
to prepare for my descent.

I know I will be back

again soon.

-Me