MEETING BUDDHA ON THE MOUNTAIN

by William Thomas

Poem

A mile downcoast

The beach ends in cliff

Easy handholds

Lead us up

Beckoning granite

The pitch ends

High in sheer rock

I lunge, grab, realize

I can't go back…

Shit

“How you doing?”

Alison's voice, anxious

From below

“Terrible!”

I look down, wishing

I hadn't    

Empty space filled

With gravity

A second ago 

I was king of this rock. 

Now swarming midges 

Seem superior

In their nonchalance

My only chance: 

A blind traverse

Along a vertical wall

Move!

Shy as a spacewalker,

I edge out onto green 

Moss — warm and false

Under bare feet scrabbling

Fingers — 

So easy to rip away

Halfway across,

I see in clinging clarity:

Mom won't Drop me 

Laughing, I scramble

Straight up the sky,

Past topmast height —  

Same view 

Without the swaying

Later, walking back,

I remark on fear,

How much the body knows.

“It's good,” Alison says, “sometimes

To let go.”

Photo Caption

Cliff face looking down -istockphoto.com