White Mountains

awake

listening to the rain and you

fighting it out for scraps

.

I welcome night

fading

lights out

and you

sleep through, proud lion snoring

in time

.

I am

out of it

.

time

.

a small enemy grew

tearing down white cells

making white mountains

of hills and

valleys

of tears

followed

atop my pillowcase

.

sleep is for you now

.

tomorrow

after dawn kisses your melon

I will tell you

after I’ve blown

cool air across a lake of coffee

pooling in my cup

.

I never dreamed of dropping this

in your lap

.

were sleep mine,

were dreams still

a hand

that reached back for me,

I would hold out hope

for technical climbs,

and you

carrying the load

my Sherpa,

my lead,

my guide rope,

my stabilizing force against --

against doubt and

shadowy white mountains

giving rise to false hopes

like mounting fears

.

this body relinquishes its foothold,

seeks

its own level,

where dreams and you

may not follow

***

Copyright © 03/25/2024 by Christy Munson. All rights reserved.