I climb you, old, steep hill
triumphantly - proudly
proclaiming every step.
Yet never question I
what it is I'm conquering.
Ne'er do I stop
to look down on
that which I step,
nor dig to find
mysteries untold
of what the hill has conquered
Only knowing that
one day it too shall
Conquer me.
And will it question
from where I have come
or ask what I've done?
Step by step I proudly ascend,
strong and arrogant is my stride.
To look out beyond the hill
I step and slip
and the hill brings me to my knees.
And I grasp at my own footprints
and as I'm sliding down the hill
my nails tear back - my feet give way -
hands and knees now bloodied and soiled.
I rest my face on the cold ground
and surrender.
by Anthony Borrow, S.J.