Consultation

She sat at her desk
stern, yet welcoming
almost a mother but barred by time

as the watery day threw pebbles
on the dirty window
matching the mood

she listened as we described
the chines we’d encountered
cliffs, drifts, rocks
of the climb, before the final fall

into the unknown air
of this unspeakable mountain
to a space of no return.

She offered no resistance
but like a mother
tucking her child to sleep
offered her helping lullaby

a small song of comfort
lightening the fear of sleep
welcome as hope of rescue.

Carolyn O’Connell
February 2017

Published Reach Poetry 223 April 2017