I need help, he calls out.
I join him in the dangerous terrain.
Ice surrounds us; it’s unclear
how we can improve this situation.
We’re gonna need tools
And strength and patience
and a wherewithal,
which we muster and apply.
We start slowly, to avoid dying.
We chip away towards safety
Ahead: an infinite stretch.
Our bodies ache
Our tools buckle
Our optimism flags
Our task feels impossible.
Bystanders question our actions
but we are where we need to be.
We have to keep going, he says.
So we keep going, onward.
Our feat feels futile as
every action we make
has ice closing back in on us.
No, our progress is not linear.
Still, we persevere.
It’s so cold out here but
the doing is worth doing.
We hack, heave, hoist, and hurtle ice.
He calls it.
We lay down our spades.
Driveway now clear of snow;
our minds still ripple with headlines.
Transformation takes time —
and our long path forward is both
always needed and never ending.
So inside we go
to remove damp gloves
unlace lug sole boots and clamor
to raise steamy mugs of chocolate.
The fight to keep this world free
and functional will never stop,
but for the moment we will
celebrate this one small win.
