Wednesday, October 12, 2011

A Poem

Okay, I keep saying and keep saying that I want to be a journalist, and that I want to be a writer, but I haven't really backed it up with any samples. So I will now.

"Up a Mountain"
By: Stephanie Clinton

The leaves crunched beneath my feet.
My breath, quick and hot, expelled from my lungs as fast as it entered.
I heard far off call from voices unseen, but I ignored them.

This was my climb.

My jacket, removed long ago despite the chill from the mountain, kept untying itself from my waist.

The hill became steeper. I began to crawl.
On my hands and knees, I trudged upwards, trying to catch a glimpse...

Then I saw it.

The once ivory white cross stood high above the trees.
I looked to it to guide me.

I climbed and climbed, using all of my strength.

Every time I crumbled, my face in the dirt, I would look up to that cross, and push forward.

At last at the top I rejoiced with God.
He had driven me up the mountainside and into His presence.

I prayed He'd do the same for me in life.

© Stephanie Clinton

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