Stepping Up. Poem by Michael Walker
Stepping Up.
In the ghost town of lock down
I climbed the Durie Hill
steps of breathlessness
all one hundred-and-sixty of them
at last count. There are platforms
every ten steps or so
where hold the handrail
and assess my breathing:
inhale deeply, exhale slowly.
I miss out the lower platforms,
keep moving on up. I check my heart rate
on the pulse meter watch; it is about 60 beats
a minute at rest, but it will be around 180 b.p.m.
higher up. That's how I like it:
I push myself to the limit.
One day of the unloved lock down
I was getting close to the top
when I fancied I saw the concrete steps
extending upward into the sky
even to the heavens
and I thought, like Jacob,
'Truly God is in this place
and I knew it not, '
as I sprinted back down the street
greatly assisted by gravity.
-26/ 27 May 2020.
Although the popular Durie Hill steps test me to the limit, I keep climbing them, then running down two streets back to where I started.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 4:48:44 PM # 1.0.0.1119
In the ghost town of lock down That's how I like it.... I push myself to the limit. The poem gives a brief account of your fitness practices and in the process you follow while taking the reader around some historical place where you have to go up through dozens of steps in its staircase. Quite an interesting portrayal. Thanks for sharing.