I climb
because of the ache in my calves,
because my breath puffs out in little clouds,
soft and fleeting when the air bites cold.
It’s not a grand quest—
just me,
scrambling over roots,
pausing to squint at the views,
watching the trees sway like they’re waving me up.
In my head, I’m a sparrow,
small, unremarkable,
hopping branch to branch,
landing wherever I please.
The wind hits hard
merciless,
cold like steel pressing into my bones.
But that sting—
it jolts me awake,
whispers I’m no fleck lost in the gust,
but someone solid, living
someone who can stare back at the world.
I stand,
mountains spilling out beyond the sea,
a fire flickering in my chest,
hot and slow,
telling me I’m alive,
telling me I’m free.
By the waves,
they roll in lazy,
lapping at my ankles like an afterthought.
I walk slow,
pick up a smooth stone,
toss it back into the foam—
why not?
It’s just me and the water,
no big plans,
no rush,
just this stretch of shore I can wander,
the sky spilling wide above,
a promise I don’t have to chase.
On the cliffs,
I stand,
wind tugging my shirt,
arms loose at my sides.
I could stay all day,
watching gulls dip and soar,
their wings delicate,
leaving whispers in the air.
Or I could walk off,
find a new spot,
let the horizon pull me wherever i want.
I climb,
to hear my breath catch,
to feel my heart thump,
loud and stubborn and alive.
The sky hangs close,
close enough to brush with my fingertips,
and I see myself—
wings cutting free,
finding my azure through every storm.
Who am I?
The one who climbs,
who wanders,
who stands on cliffs and feels the pull—
not to fall,
but to fly,
to keep going,
because I know
freedom’s that choice,
that lift,
that rush.
I climb because the clouds feel close enough
to touch.
Writer – Sophia Kong
Editor – Robbie Ge
Artist – Cindy Zhang
–April 2025–
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