If I die in this place
                        who will find me?

Like a piton
this thought, is stuck in my mind

My sneakers were made for lazy days
for sidewalks and classrooms
they fold over rocks like jerky
       slipping
                  more often than
                             catching.

They are quick to remind me
I don’t belong
                                                 here.

but the height makes me quicker still
               all the while still wondering…

If I die in this place
                         who will find me?

Scaling the cliffside
I look for rebellious roots
terrified brittle limbs
confident rocks
eager to help a hand
miles away
                                                                  my home is empty
the sun is setting
                       and my mind echoes…

If I die in this place

                           Who will find me?