Rope binds us like blood



coils at my feet,

anchors us to the very rock

we struggle to ascend.

We push and pull our way

upward in turns, guarding

against an unlucky end.

We and the rope knot our fists

against gravity’s strong current,

as each ascends alone, sensing only

the stone’s crystalline grit,

the soft speech of the wind,

and the silent distance beneath.

Only the bright rope, running

untangled and free, reminds us

our fate is tied to another.

Rope binds us like blood:

woven with faith, unfrayed by fear,

made brave by love.



4 thoughts on “Rope”

  1. Thanks, Rob! I’m glad you stopped by to check it out. I think the poem captures some of how climbers rely on their equipment and each other fairly well. I also think that, if one looks, there are analogies everywhere in life that point to our need to trust and connect to one another in common efforts.

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