My Everest

I would tell him I wrote enough words

to assemble and stack into a mountain –

that he is why I know how to climb –

that he has always been the mixed metaphor

my foot catches on and trips me up –

he is the fall

he is the bruised arms and skinned knees –

I would tell him he’s the words

“get back up” and “try again”-

He’s the sky I’m always trying to reach

and the stacks of worthless poems on paper in my way –

He is my Kilimanjaro, my Everest-

he is the cold, the hunger,

the exhaustion –

he is the probable failure

but the will to go on.


“My Everest” – 4-4-14- jessicagadziala


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