The Latter
dark.
her eyes dart from side to side.
nothing.
slowly, she lowers herself
onto her knees;
her hands hit the rocky soil.
she asks herself how she got here.
she looks up,
and can faintly see
a flicker of light.
hope.
with a flush of determination,
she rises,
reaching for the tattered pieces
of the ladder that once
had stood so tall,
and had once held her so high,
now mangles and mutilated.
she looked to her left,
and found a new piece.
it held in it a wisp of joy.
a whisper of a promise
that if she kept on building.
if she kept on pushing,
she could make it.
so she did.
and look at her now,
high up from that pit of despair.
climbing on, and not looking back,
she sometimes stumbles,
but she still is climbing,
and never has she looked back.