Inch

 It's easy most days

Walking on the ridge of the mountain I call home

Eyes closed 

My toes know the rocks by their texture now

They know when to stop

They know how to turn 

It's easy most days 

Looking at the lichen growing over the frozen sediments

I can smell them from afar

My feet slowly becoming home to them 

Their roots grow in slow 

They know how to burn

It's a slow walk some days 

My feet slippery from the algae that have grown 

On the fertile mountain

My thoughts grow abound

The mud slips down to the abyss sometimes 

It knows when to stop and hold my feet

It knows when to run

It's a inchwalk today

The mud and the lichen have disappeared under the rain

Weeds entangled in my hair and hands 

The cliff is calling out to me

There's laughter at its nadir

Away from unending scorn

It's easy most days

Walking to the cliff and dangling my feet in joy

The laughter alloyed inside my mind 

But even when it's hard, I crawl

Every inch I grovel

Every inch I worm