The morning loomed in gloom over the valley
and dawn struggled to chime —
behind the clouds the sun was trying
to emerge into a shining new time.
She stood on the ridge maintaining her balance
gripping tightly the thorns below —
the climb up the mountain was a big undertaking
an unending endeavor treacherous and slow.
In lackluster moon-light she scouted the slopes
once again sensing a fear—
then sadness engulfed her and shattered illusions
of a life that was lost and was dear.
For a moment she felt herself dizzy to stable
with a force so compelling to flee—
to descend once again and to gather the bones
of those who did not make it free.
Then at once she breathed, pounding her breast
restored balance and dropped all the doubts—
reclaiming her spirit she bellowed a cry
that echoed and rumbled far out.
Her cry died into whisper and slowly grew silent
as she vowed to continue her climb—
to carve a new path, to sing like a Swallow
and allow for the healing of time.
The morning loomed darkly over the valley
in a gust of fierce winds she rose—
there she stood embracing herself
refusing to let her heart close.