by Katherine Gotthardt What is it you're not seeing when you're only looking up? Did you miss footprints in the grass, making imprints among the impossible? Or further behind on that scarred trail, scrapes of rakes and hoes barely staying steady? It's the indents in earth that give it away, signs everyone needs something to rely on. Yet in your climb, you forget: You wouldn't be here if it weren't for the mountain. You wouldn't be here if it weren't for the trail. You wouldn't be here except for the footpath cut through the treeline and slump of every valley. Maybe it's time to look down again, remind yourself of stark reality. Everything deserves to be recognized.
