Kilimanjaro: Mike Wyatt Reflects on His Summit Day

Posted by: Mark Tucker | September 10, 2012
Categories: *Expedition Dispatches *Kilimanjaro

A climber from Mark Tucker’s Kilimanjaro Climb, Mike Wyatt, composed the following poem about his summit day.

BLUE SNOW by Mike Wyatt

The air is cold, burns the lungs deep – Wish I was in bed fast asleep.
Obsidian night – Black as a raven feather.
Buttery crescent moon shepherds in good weather.
Heavy limbs fight the rocky slope – Trekkers tied by an invisible rope.
The echo of fatigue resonates down the line – Fiery meteorite the color of red wine.
The air is cold, burns the lungs deep – Wish I was in bed fast asleep.
Blindly pushing forward, we pass another team – What is reality? What is a dream?
Summiteers from years past whisper in my ear – not give in, for the peak is near.
I chase the heels before me repeatedly catching my breath – One unconscious slip could mean injury or death.
Tangerine pink color accent the sky – It’s pure silent beauty is no lie.
The crater rim now in sight – Ebullient hikers descend in weary flight.
Icy dry wind burns my face – Tired scarred boots don’t leave a trace.
The air still cold burns the lungs deep – I’m glad I am not in bed fast asleep.
For the glacier’s blue snow is still cold, hard and deep.

Blue Snow by Mike Wyatt

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