A Woman’s Strength and Journey
Her journey begins in the violet haze of dawn
enveloped in a dark cloak of mist, she
breathes into her scarf
looking up into the parting clouds,
sees her goal, overhead
a white mountain’s peak
scraping the pale skies above.
Treading slowly, carefully
with her torn sandals
barely
keeping her feet from
the cold, barren ground.
With only the comfort
of the life
around her,
she continues walking
step after step after step
leaving her quiet trace behind
in the resilient, frostbitten snow.
Squinting her eyes
through the soft white flurries
as the slush underfoot fades
into a gentler field
of fine and supple grass
slowly sloping skyward
where the mountain
begins.
The first area is easy. Near the summit, the land is steep and uneven, but the grass here is a soft green, more pliable. The snowflakes are shimmering. This is a beautiful moment.
She takes off her beaten shoes
just
for this moment
to feel the grass
against her feet
relishing its mellowness
before, she knows,
jagged stones will take its place
and she will truly be tested
in her strength
and
will.
Midway up
the mist has faded
revealing the sun
already at its highest point
she is tired,
mud smeared on her legs,
but she perseveres.
It is a plum tree. Halfway up a mountain is a strange place for such a thing. It stands out against the ground around it. The leaves are bright emerald, and the fruit is a deep purple.
Feeling the firmness
of the plums
she is determined
and walks further
begins to climb
for the mountain’s slope
is increasing in difficulty
and it will soon be
impossible
to simply stride upon.
So she climbs.
At long, long last
she is ready to faint
but she steps the final stone
breaks into open air
and there she is.
On the mountain’s
summit.
Proud.
The sky is the same purple hue as it was at dawn. A rich, brilliant purple. From the top of the mountain, all is visible. The grass. The stones. Even the plum tree. This is an amazing feeling. Anything is possible.