Climbing

A sonnet

photo by William J Spirdione

Hand over hand, foot over foot, we climb.
Cold steel rungs tightly gripped as we ascend.
We don’t know what we’ll find amid the grime.
Or if we’ll lose our grip and not transcend.

Facing a solid wall that blocks our path,
No way under or through, we must climb up.
To turn around is tempting our fate's wrath.
We won’t allow our fears to interrupt.

If we never quite make it to the top.
I’m not letting us climb into that trap.
And when we make it, obstacles won’t stop.
We grow strong as our problems overlap.

Let each rung climbed be a complete story.
One adds to the next, another glory.