Climber

Groping fingertips search slowly up the wall

Grateful fingers grip firmly to the hold

Curled toes of feet help balance on the rock’s fold

To lose one’s self-belief is mentally to fall.

So hand to hand, strained foot and back and knee

Up slope, then face and crack, and chimney bold

Till triumphant on the summit he’ll behold

A land of broken rock and scattered scree

Gazing o’er mountain, Fews and sea

The surface of a molten earth grown cold

And breathing air Cuchullain breathed of old

He relishes the heady taste of victory.

And though he climbs, he conquers not the hill

It is himself he conquers with his will.