I talk myself into my run
one foot in front of the other
climbing upwards challenged
laboring a little
just enough to remind me
I pass birds calling
aged trees standing still
among the wood line
while wild brown-eyed susans
wink in sway with a soft wind
a wind I need to release me
I do not stop until the trail ends
I walk upon the canvas
the gray and green elephants
walk around me.
Always in dimensional lights
of bright and then dim
the gathering of familiar faces
was all that I could see.
I look to see upstairs to find
and you were not there.
I continued down the stairs
the face of your adversary
standing fatter and pompous.
A distant call was hung into space
I heard the gritty sound of ignorance,
I heard the sound of disgrace.
I never saw but knew.
I asked this fatter one where,
where were you?
He turned to another and gave directions
I could no longer contain the pain,
as I beat upon his chest and
cried with years of disdain…
I gather grit
I gather me
A day of solitude
a day succeed
Stones and pebbles
in my path
mud and slides
become my wrath
I listen to my body
labors to go on
I do not stop
the road is long
My head is leading
through the race
my legs continue
to keep the pace
Times I feel faint
and others strong
but I did endure
I did belong.
© CMM 2015
Bleached white and muted grey wood line
Covered with spots of unthawed snow,
Patches of green grass left from summer.
The smoky grey morning clouds hang heavy
As the morning light breaks into a shadow cast.
Winter has taken hold into arctic temperatures
And still nature stays attentive to coming storms.
Sitting at my desk I am taken aback as one brave
Bird dares to break the silence and sing of spring
A slip, a footing,
both pent against the wedge of panic’s doom.
A slice of electrical surge
crippling my stance.
Yanking the distorted foot
out of its pitted doom,
it stops me,
A balance of consciousness,
a throbbing searing surge,
I step broken
one in front of the other.
Stepping into the climb,
one step, then two; more.
Top of the stairs,
a morose pause, then endurance—
I continue on to class.
© Christine McNeill-Matteson 2000
Within the winter’s storm, far beyond degrees,
delicate flower has weathered the rigid winter’s breeze.
If fallen snow does come in winter’s frozen ground,
I look outside my window noticing the pansy still around.
Don’t misunderstand the refinement of color, softness and touch
all too many thrust past grace, forgetting strength in much…
at the bottom of the incline.
This sturdy force, this muscled mass,
must take upon his climb.
one I’ve known so well,
together we will climb this cliff,
the cliff from where he fell.
I tilt forward in his lead,
as he surely leads the way.Insignificant and frail I feel,
a difference of his strength and me,
the power harbored in his will,
the struggle that sets us free.
His body welcomes me,
I lean into it, shouldering me he tows.
He pulls his hoofs against the stones
his step is strong but slow.
Blending as one in determination
motion of the trial we meet,
sound of his hoofs, his labored breath,
tropical winds bring the heat.
WE finally reach this upward climb,
and once again we are still.
Silent trust, this twosome ride
from the power of his will.
I slide and leave this gallant hero,
with his challenge met.
A euphoric morning, the power of the ride,
the ride I will never forget.
Copyrighted: CMM 1996