The bright places are haunts of darkness
however high the climb.
The north face cracks from water,
wind blasting wherever it wills,
wherever it comes from and
wherever it goes. Lichen grows
on our flesh with each climb
as our lives cling between above and below,
horizon and summit, crack after crack.
Who can see the Kingdom of sky
with afterbirth crusting the eyes?
Faith is gripping the cracks of our lives.