Ascend
I look toward the climb
and feel the urge to turn away,
to loosen my grip, to yield.
Slopes wield loose stone,
holding doubt.
But I am not alone.
Behind me, voices rise,
those who loved me once,
those who love me still.
They press their faith
between my shoulders,
hands warm, insistent,
saying stand.
So I take the first small steps.
The path begins to lift,
narrow underfoot.
When my breath thins,
their hands steady me.
When the height unsettles
bone and balance,
their voices quiet the shaking air.
They do not promise ease.
Only this:
ascent is made one step,
then one more,
and I am not alone.
@sonnetsmith.bsky.social
#WildWalkPrompt #Ascend
#Poetry #Friendship