Higher Ground

I can see myself climbing uphill. I envision how I might look from the ground, my arms tight and clawing. I see my hands reaching for purchase with a tree branch or an embedded rock. . . climbing. The sweat drips down my forehead, into my eyes, and concentrating on the next move, I blink the sweat away.

I can feel the muscles in my legs working; the muscles tightening as I strain to move up, as I work to get to the top. And stopping to breath, I look at the self I left behind, still shaking her head, saying “You’ll never do it.” I nod my head and look beyond her, above and beyond her to the open skies.

My ears pop from the heights I reach, and are opened to hear the sounds of joy screaming from heaven, the applause from heaven that pushes me to move up and up and up.

Taking a deep breath, I see that I still have a long way to go. Taking a deep breath, I position my hands to pull me higher, I position my legs to push me forward, and heavy with breath, I move up another step.

Having lost my footing a few times, sliding down, down, down, I am aware of the obstacles that I can’t see, that may scrape me, bruise me, knock me down. Instead of fearing it, I expect it. Instead of challenging it, I humble myself to it, knowing that I need the work of heaven, the work of the stars to keep me moving forward.

I pray to the skies on my way up. I pray to be moved above and beyond when the time is right. I beg that I may end on the other side of the mountain, away from the ground where my old self holds a place for me.

I pray for truth on this trek. I pray for honesty on this trek. I pray for love during these travels. I pray for a mate as I climb. I pray for a passion fulfilled on this trek. I pray, I pray, I pray, I pray.

I will reach higher ground. I will reach higher ground to hear the applause from the heavens more clearly, because those hands are working to pull me up and up and up.

Planting my feet on solid ground, I will look down at the speck of my old self and watch as she walks the other way.