From here I see a dozen mountaintops and more.
How many have we climbed together?
How many more remain to us?
From here
They look so close together,
As though we could skip from one to the next,
Like stones across a stream.
But then we reach the next pinnacle and find
Yet another broad valley waiting to be traversed.
Up.
Across.
Down.
Through.
Repeat.
Did you ever stop to think
How much of life is plain-old hard work?
We spend so little time
On the mountaintop….
Why do we act as though
It’s the only thing worth living for?
Here’s to all of life—
The Up, Across, Down, and Through,
And to sharing it, Dear One, with you.
August 3, 2017 ~ free verse
© 2017 Abigail Gronway – All Rights Reserved
Reblogged this on The Militant Negroâ„¢.
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