Through mist and shadowed hope we toil
each foot
forward
a step toward success
eyes certain
chins firm
shoulders straight
no thoughts given to the negative space
to the freefall of uncertainty
to the sure death of anticipation
just inches from our trail.
“Ji six-mukws n̍iin,” rumbles Sgan̍ist
~ listen carefully ~
Over our heads a boulder whistles
followed by the clatter of lesser stones.
The mountain speaks.
...bones... 