This Mountain

July 5, 2009
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I drag my bag
of shallow memories
up the mountain of Him.
I can see the top,
I’m almost there,
but my bag
feels like lead
in my hands.
It makes my steps
harder to take.
I dream of what
I’ll do when I get
to the peak.
I’ll throw out the
memories one by one,
and watch them
drop down farther
and farther until
they can’t hurt
me anymore.
I imagine myself
scaling other mountains.
I’m almost at the top.





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