The Never-Ending Staircase

A poem by Leni Wascher

Blocks of stone piling up

As I moved my head from the ground

It made it seem as if I’d found

A staircase which doesn’t stop

The grey of the stone was all I saw

Where does one step end?

My feet made out of cement 

Climbing with no chance to withdraw

The hardness of the stairs all I could feel

Under my feet, my hands, my head

Not fully alive but also not dead

No visible end, no place to heal

What if there is simply no end?

If my whole life is climbing grey stone?

The stairs’ last step clearly unknown

Not enough strength to even pretend

My ambition continuously leaving me

Suddenly a small voice, a slight sound

„Hey my friend, just turn around“

I moved my body and could finally see

Blocks of stone piling up

As I moved my head towards the ground

I saw my achievement all around 

And the proof that this staircase will stop

I’d focussed on the grey that came

Not on the grey I’d past

I’d hoped each step would be my last

Only the end had been my aim

Now I saw all the steps I’d climbed

All of the challenges each of them were

Still I’d managed to climb each stair

And focused on keeping my progress in mind

The grey staircase still seemed tall

And the stairs’ end might still be far

I also don’t know how many steps they are

But I know I’m capable of climbing them all.