Rock is compact. Smooth. Fantastic.

Rock is compact. Smooth. Fantastic.

Occasionally not a crack across it.

No hollow to draw a brow or a lash around it.

Nothing jutting out.

It puffs up its torso.

Path known as Armour.

 

Lacking cracks, not a spot to put a piton, or inch your way along,

Failing all,

You grasp a hook,

A plain iron pointy hook, sharp as you can wish

A rock fish hook.

You put it on that lip that stands proud by a jot.

Got it !

At hook bottom, you hang a small stringy foothold.

Sigh !

Now your foot is on first rung

You load your full mass on this thin sill

Slow as you can. Any sharp tug could rip that hook from its frail hold.

Gradually you shift your dangling body,

Bit by bit your hook digs its point into rock and firms up.

Slow slow you go up.

Avoid at all costs looking at what you trust.

Air thrums.