Escape Claws
From the beginning
I struggled to climb
with fingers bleeding
as they scrabbled on stone
numb from more than pain
groping for handholds.
I wished for escape claws.
I made do with what I had.
I look back and see your face
shining like moonlight in the night
stars sliding down your cheeks
and I reach back to help
and I see my bleeding palm
and I hope my damaged hand
doesn’t scare you.
I sing to you then
with my rusty voice–
a lullaby that has slept
for too long,
dying in my throat.
Together we can scale
these bitter walls.
Hand in hand…
hand over hand…
hands full of sand…
until we collapse
beneath the open sky
and beyond the reach
of this shadowed well.
Our skin will steam
as sunlight burns away
the long, crying cold
and the lullaby
will be born again
in our warmth.
~Angela Smith
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