into the thinning blue air;
grasping and moving onward
with each fistful, trying to reach the clear.
But thorny impediments make up the only stairs
so that each grasp after grasp
only leaves wounds to care
and another day to hide behind a mask.
Oh, why does each movement hurt so much
when we can just skip the stalk
and be together and such
in this journey, this lifelong walk.