It’s 9:15. I’m climbing up into morning.nLungs are screaming for air. Enshrouded shapes are forming.nI see his vacant stare. I heard him calling on the radio.nFirst one this year. We couldn’t reach him through blinding snow.nHe pushed too hard. That’s what everybody said.nIt snowed three days he must be dead.nnI’m trying to break through.nI am reaching for the sky.nI am frayed, torn in two through fields of the fallen lost in the gray.nnIt’s 4:18. Every step brings me homeward.nThrough the valley of death, there he sits like monument.nI blame myself for lack of endeavor.nBut I must press on lest I become another.nIf I slow down my heart may shatter from withinnNo I will not become him.nnI’m trying to break through.nI am reaching for the sky.nMy lips are cracked, bleeding blue, nI’m still calling for you.nMy arms stretch toward you.nI want to look you in the eye.nSpread your wings won’t you, over the fallen?nLost in the gray.