Daniel Holden Smith
August 6, 2025
Mountaintop
Death is like a mountain,
Absolute.
Crushing.
Immovable.
Terrifyingly beautiful.
Always been there,
and always will be.
’Don’t climb it now dear!
it’s too dangerous!!’
“Oh yeah? hehe, we’ll see”
Mountains make loving you
crucial, and urgent.
We are the inevitable quake
of two tectonic plates,
convergent.
Perhaps one peak is pushed
down and away by the other.
Or maybe, the downer is
pushing up on the upper?
But what if the plates meet
at just the right place and
through some power
or divine grace,
spur each other skyward
in the greatest of space races.
Now, everyone says to
climb at your own pace,
but I still feel like an angel
that’s been disgraced.
Like I need endless attorneys
to plead my cases.
And as I peer off this cliff
I fear my wings are clipped
and the waters below still
mirror the same sad faces
***
The mighty mortem mountaineer
redraws Hades’ slopes and peaks
as they endeavor to cope,
and of their emotions,
truly speak.
And I don’t know, whether to hope
or fall on my knees and freak.
Pope’s, prayers, and cardinals
all just squawking beaks!!!
Some talk, others are walking
And still we all SEEK
Mountains stand tall
toward our death we crawl,
weak, and afraid.
And perhaps this verse is
only a bandaid
over this furious fountain of fear.
I am the hearse,
and the whole damn motorcade
but I don’t know how to steer!
***
I feel paralyzed.
Caught in an avalanche
buried beneath
expectations, and grief.
Body. Wants. Relief.
Except, Satan is just seduction
“here, have a hit of this leaf.
Take a little slump bro, it’ll be brief
Even Forrest was a gump y’know,
and look! he felt free!”
Ohhhh the temptation!
I do not want to think
I’d rather not wait here teetering on the brink Of
“live life to the fullest!”
or “flush it all down the sink”
Still, Most days, I’m keen to live life
with a spirited stride
and imagination spread wide
But now Nino de Nihilism
follows me around
pleading for a piggyback ride
And still I am bleeding
from my insides
Overpacked with blood in my entrails,
yet, no cuts to escape from
I look back, at mud soaken trails
and long for those ruts that I came from
Now, I’m a train on broken rails
Where do I put this pain if not in wails?
How do I maintain sane? when my heart feels so frail?
Look at yourself,
A muted mutt with a name
Go on then, take Dan off the shelf
Does it really take guts?
Or just like, no shame
Just do it already
You’ve only yourself to blame.
Who else has to die? Before I play the game.
–-
Now this, prickle in my palms,
it holds remembrance of your cheek’s beard
This deadly ascent I then feared
now seems far less steep
But still, that far-off mountain peak
It makes my knees weak.
But for you dad, I will resolve to speak.
Into my heart I will plummet
and hope to behold
that death defying view
we all seek, at the summit.
–-