Boots

Boots by Chloe Bernards

I had expected angst and nerves

And instead I got freedom

A trail winded me through 

And the liberty of making a new one not yet created

Kindled my feet alive, 

I couldn’t stop if I wanted to

 

I looked 

And what I saw was more inspiring than a role model, a song, a religion

For on the peak I saw all that I ever needed

The vast green overwhelmed me,

The shadows cast on the snow, illuminations by the sun

My legs numb from the chill 

Hair full of grease and dirt

My body trembling with new found strength and power

I turned around and around

Begging my memory to lock this atmosphere of pure tranquility

Trying to soak my tongue in the clean air

So I would never forget what inspiration tasted like

 

I had found myself once again

The air whispered affirmations that I believe today

The rocks that I stood upon lifted me from the depths of darkness into an everlasting light

The grass that sheltered me, cradled me

The mountain wasn’t big enough to hold me back

I was too powerful to be stopped

 

And

In the misty air, I was allowed to breathe

Which felt like for the first time.

These swift, divine, filling breaths

In which I realized

My identity wasn’t found on the highest peak

Who I was and who I continue to be was only magnified because of something I was capable of

But I was always capable of climbing a mountain

 

Returning home, discomfort stirred my bones 

My blood unsettled by routines

The elevation had seeped into me

Energy flowed from the tips of my fingers to my toes

Pleading to be released

To dance among the flowers, rise with the warmth, settle with the night sky, and to discover the evermore jubilance of being alive

 

What inspires me?

Dirty boots, smelly hair, saying yes, rail storms, hail storms, wind storms, all the storms, blue skies, never ending blue skies that never stop being blue, and joy

Unspeakable joy that the elevation brings

The people that become home

That God becomes the deepest valley and eventually brings you

To the highest mountain 

And you can’t even speak because all of the pieces fall together and you realize that everything is in the right place and you fall into the magical world of simply being at peace with yourself, dirt and all,

And you go 

And you go and you go

To climb, yet another mountain.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741