The Peak Poem by David Welch

The trailhead stands there before me,
after two hour's drive,
a peak with a panorama
that others call sublime.

I have been meaning to climb it,
test my will and my heart,
cannot believe it took this long
just to come out this far.

First half-mile is the hardest,
the legs start feeling strain,
bored by long hours of sitting
now they rebel at pain.

Wonder why I keep doing this,
but still I do not stop,
settle into a standard pace
the pain begins to drop.

Around me is a vast forest,
everything looks alike,
like I'm climbing through a tunnel,
and can't rely on sight.

Cling to a narrow walking path,
where others went before,
nothing but endless trees to see,
I thought there would be more.

Now the sweat starts to flow freely,
and the lungs start to heave,
but the peak just keeps on rising,
getting harder to breathe.

The breaks are coming more often,
count my steps to distract
my mind from asking fair questions,
'Why aren't we turning back? '

To go through so much exertion
just to see rocks and pines?
What are we even doing here?
What do we hope to find?

Counting steps no longer working,
my mood is getting rough,
but then a glint of sunlight comes,
outlines a ridge above.

I push despite muscles aching,
despite my tired feet,
tell myself you must feel some pain
if you're to climb the peak.

Trees are now getting much smaller,
the forest starts to thin,
of vistas I'd not imagined
I start to get a glimpse.

The peak is standing clear above,
scrub trees fading to rock,
But now the sun beats down on me,
so I stop to take stock.

Will I find something way up there
that I cannot see here?
The sooner I start down again,
the sooner I'll have beer.

Yet I find my feet still going,
muscle like ground wire,
a stitch cramp forming in my ribs,
feels like breathing fire.

Half-hunched scaling the gray bedrock,
all thought gone but the climb,
can't see the beauty around me,
there's no space in my mind.

Each knoll another false summit,
brings out another groan,
I'm too old to just laugh this off,
stabbing pain in my bones.

Must be a form of true madness
to have pushed on this far,
no wonder most folks are content
just staying where they are.

I see no more rock before me,
just sky and rolling peaks,
my mind struggling to catch up,
register what it sees.

The whole world laid out in color,
and I'm above it all,
seeing things that most others won't,
too afraid that they'd fall.

I see now why some folks like it,
and struggle up this way,
a great effort once accomplished
inside will never fade.

All the peaks unfold around me,
I find a patch of ground,
think I'll just stay up here a bit,
no rush to get back down...