Two Thousand and Fourteen

the world gave me one last gift that year

before I really learned what darkness was

I saw the mountains. I saw them through

my friends, looked at their peaks, traced

the outline of their ascent. To be lifted

still, blush at the thought of what lay

before each summit. I would take with

her sweet breaths feathered in blind joy

made small among the past held close

to our chests, comforting those only

time had bestowed mercy