Member-only story
Neruda’s Elixir
A Poem About Personal Power
She leans against the rock,
Feet blistered
Face burnt
An ache in her back that wasn’t there yesterday
She is only halfway up
And though she is alone
She is only slightly worried about where she will spend the night
She’s been here before
Been more tired and more hungry
Had the same wet hair from the relentless rain
This time, though, she is three days away from her last coffee
She sits
Rubs her feet
Sees the first fingers of light come through the clouds
Watches it kiss coral wings of flamingos in flight — fifty at least, flying high
Over her head
To crest the summit
Her back warms, and her hair dries
She wipes her face
Finds her boots
And shortly after, finds her pace
Hours later, there she is, on the other side of the mountain
Sitting with Marcela Silva, who is closer to eighty than seventy
