These days are your mountain climbing days
for who knows how long till
you decide to check your harness back in.

These are the days when falling down
from euphoria only hurts
for just a brief moment. Then
you are ready once again to try again.

These are the days when oppression is
the largest object that appears
out of the skyline of your small secular window
and distracts your worldly view.

These are the days when the callous
on your hands and feet mean love
for everything natural and for each other
even when they hurt.

One day you’ll climb up a Mt. Everest
(though everyone’s is different.)
and you’ll see where the clouds form
and where the water will fall down from.

These are the days when soft bodies
--puddles and plains and shrubs--
don’t mean the same comfort as that
of being alone with the rough mountains.

These are the days when innocence
and curiosity mean courage
and it is the only tool you got to climb,
in the only path celebrated. Up.

The path is hard, oppressive, and childish.
These days are your mountain climbing days. Go!