Peering atop the peak, She is closer to God than man, The Creator of all below, Of all she fears and loves. In this moment, she is untouchable. The stillness of the mountaintop is broken only by the stern wind, Howling and calling, Making sure she knows it is there. It waits for the quiet to approach with all of its power. It cannot, will not, be ignored. She takes a moment to feel. Pain and triumph and calmness and chaos. All cannot live together in one place at one time, Pushing and pulling, They always find their space. She lets it settle in, Accepting it all as a part of her. Her arms reach out, She creaks, she pops, And a hand is there to meet her own. Untouchable, but touched.