Hour 2: The mountain climbers of Kinabalu

 

“Be honest,” she said, as I’m pulled into the night,

Feeling at odds with the soft moonlight.

“Tell them the truth; we have nothing to hide.

We’re just kids. Nothing happened. Nobody died.”

 

We had heaved ourselves up to the mountainous heights

In the dreadinous zones, nature’s deathly death bites

We slipped through, unannounced, we four foreign bodies

Ecstatic, relieved, thanking whichever its god is.

 

The sky aglow, deep red, softest touch

I, at one with the earth, (and, perhaps, being Dutch)

Threw my clothes to the ground with such joy and delight

And the others’ skin warming in the soft growing light.

 

It’s after hours now, and the cold pulls me back.

Bent over, head covered, my body is slack.

I hear flashes of light and alien chattering

I’m rough-tumbled to a car, cold, feel the rain spattering.

 

I can cause earthquakes; I spite the divine.

I state my name when I’m next in the line.

Her once child-like face is heavy and wan.

I take hold of her hand as we’re moved along.

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