I ascend rung by rung up the ladder
It creaks under my weight
mirroring the quivering in my hands, my feet
as I step onto the roof, shingles shedding beneath my feet
needing the firm hand offered to avoid falling through
to the ramshackle house below
I can’t breathe. I climb
Higher
Higher
But panic
all the way
to the ground
I feel paralyzed
inadequate
guilty
for taking up room for ten hours in a van
to pick up the trash of those who aren’t afraid
I go back to the lodge
and lie down
my head aching with the fear, the worry and the stress
And yet somehow,
the next day I’m back
Climbing the ladder
Grabbing the hand
Scooting upward
and upward
until I’m at the peak
That’s when I pick up a hammer and
breathe