Walking Up Scafell Pike with My Father

Christian Ward

After walking a few yards
you breathe like someone
who has slipped across the border.

I am ahead, you are far
behind. There are no rest stops
on this rocky path to the summit,

no hedgerows to distract
our lack of common interests
or silences broken up with ums

and ers. You wear a jacket
of rain and I nudge you ahead with tuts.
At the top, there is nothing

but what a view. We are at opposite
ends of the plateau with only similar
rocks bringing us closer.

Christian Ward is a UK-based writer who has recently appeared in Open Minds Quarterly, Obsessed with Pipework, Primeval Monster, Dreich, Uppagus and the BlueHouse Journal. He can be found on instagram @fighting_cancer_with_poetry.

This piece has previously appeared in Poetry and Places, The Bookends Review, Medusa’s Kitchen, CommuterLit, Antimatter Dreams, in the featured poet section on Osamasetorbest.com and in the anthology Around the World: Landscapes and Cityscapes.