Finding my line is all well and good
but it does not help to flood
my lungs with the oxygen I so desperately need
to feed my blood
so I can soar away from the pain and succeed
rather than bleed and sink gasping
grasping for some hope and some sign
of a glorious descent
and the line drawn by another
The ray of light that broke the cloud departed.
I descend; the pace increasing, the pulse
steadying after the shock.
Sat in its shadow as evening draws a close on the chapter
I survey the soaring ramparts, searching for the return
that will never come.
A joyful ache takes away the pain as I sit
staring at the pieces, pondering the next move;
upward glances marking time
in the silent lullaby of Liathach’s lament.
Some recognition of the work that goes on behind the scenes to make a hill race happen. Last year’s Slioch Horseshoe features in the latest edition of The Fellrunner. One of many great photos documenting the race by Phil Hindell.
the jericho roads 