The mountain we climbed

was high and you led me,

dirt between your fingers

even while it crumbled,

breaking in bits

as our arms stretched

one after another

toward a finger crack

or lock on the crux.

We had no equipment with us

no rope, no anchors,

but your eyes were on me,

asking me to trust you,

not by what you said

but how you looked:

Move forward, move up,

it is a facade that

things are breaking,

you get stronger with

every foothold,

your muscles holding you

for each precarious step.

It is time to break

away now from what feels safe,

which is an illusion, really,

for what is safe and

what isn’t worth risk?

—jennifer j. camp