by Tain Leonard-Peck
grant this blessing
to me
on this frozen
cliff side
the vast empty below
may as well
be infinity
let my axe strike firm
hold deep
in the ice
every desperate blow
delivered
in the driving white gale
climbing-spikes
lashed
let my boots
hold hard
and take purchase
find me a path
through frosted rock
shifting snow
as I ascend
let my rope
keep tight
every knot
let my eyes
stay wide
in every wind
any sleet
lest I blink
lest I flinch
stumble blind
to my end
all my blessings
for naught
wingless angel I am
I pray through the storm
the abyss always waiting
let me rise
mountain gods
let me summit
my church
each breath offers praise
sing hosannah
of heights
About the Author:
Tain Leonard-Peck is a poet, novelist, playwright, and screenwriter from West Tisbury, on the island of Martha’s Vineyard. He is poet laureate of West Tisbury, and has had numerous poems, prose pieces, and plays published. In addition to his creative works, he enjoys sloop sailing, fencing, and skiing, as well as traveling across the US and tending to the rabbits and goats on his family farm.