Melanie Dawn

A Promise for Peace

Following two years of futile attempts to climb a hill with bloody hands and broken feet, I realized I was staring at a frigid, breathless mountaintop, meanwhile walking past countless meadows and shades of green blowing in the calm wind beside me. The common path of dirt and stomped grass leads straight with no spots to rest beneath the berry bushes gifted alongside the walk. If anything, thousands sprint so fast to be able to say, “I’m at the top!” they forgot to smell the sweet air before reaching an oxygen-deprived atmosphere. New Years reinforces that we get new shoes, get our hands dirty, and get ready to climb; this year I choose to walk barefoot among the earth, wash my hands in the streams, and sit down to feel the sun on my face.