See To the Mountains for Purpose

She looked down at a dirty, worn-soft pair of shoes
Atop a surface too rocky and slanted.
She was reaching the bottom of herself.
On the ascent, sharp breaths cut the throat.
Pride grew at the sight of the black earth beneath
bitten nails and scrapes across white knuckles.
To winnow the matter of an unhappy mind dug up destruction.
This time, she’d find what was searched for so long
And when that happened it would be clutched like treasure
To burn like gleed in her palms.
One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.