Everest - a Poem
A poem about the insurmountableness of my stairs some days. Living with ME/CFS
Hello friends,
I’m aware that I’ve been posting maybe a bit too often. So I’ve tried to rein it in a little. It’s Wednesday so poetry or prose day. Have a poem. (Ignore any grammatical mistakes especially apostrophes- my English teacher told me not to bother as I always get them wrong, and I have zero belief in my ability any more - I have dyslexia, leave it at that.)
This was written whilst in a bad ME/CFS crash. After this event, and Lordy climbing those stairs was hard.
Everest
Today the stairs are my Everest,
each step a Herculean effort to ascend.
At base camp a large dog sleeps,
his form, irregular and treacherous,
bumped up against the bullnose,
lying in wait before the first step.
“Please don’t rise, please don’t rise.”
He will take me out if he does.
By step 3 I’m huffing, puffing.
I need oxygen,
the air seems thin and rarified
lungs already burning,
muscles already aching.
I long for crampons to aid my feet,
to dig into the wool carpet giving
grip and stability.
Progress is slow.
Smooth wooden
balustrade and spindles
hauled on.
breath
rasps
sharply
and
I
rest.
Will I be today’s victim of the slope?
Will future travellers
between first floor and ground
discover my body,
desiccated under the piles of
laundry never taken up?
Digging deep
I haul myself up.
Half way there.
“I can do it, I can do it.”
If only the setting cement would remove itself from my limbs,
the iron belt remove itself from my chest.
2 more steps to go.
I dig deeper,
breathe deeper,
gather my fortitude.
strengthen my resolve.
Knowing my luck,
I’ll forget
what was so important
that I needed to climb this mountain
before I reach the top.
“And up we go.”
I say this out loud,
as though the words have strength
and can drag me up
letter by letter.
Wooden spindle by wooden spindle,
hand over hand,
progress is made,
and the top newel post finally embraced,
it’s smooth rounded cap rubbed
ever more shiny by my grateful hands.
The peak
is reached.
And
I plant
the flag
of
my
exhaustion
there.
February 2024
Or buy me a coffee.
Very dramatic, my darling, but I likes it.
Thank you so much for sharing. I resonate so much with this, deeply feel its truth. You have so perfectly captured what stairs are like for me too during medium ME flares. Even during mild flares there are still elements of this, and so I have moved house so I no longer have to tackle Everest so frequently.