The Vertical Roar

The steel grid groans, a hollow ring,

each footfall makes the cold walls sing.

Up, up I go, the air grows thin,

my breath a ragged thing within.

The sound bounces back, a heavy thump,

a frantic, echoing, rising lump.

It multiplies, my gasping sound,

trapped in this concrete, upward bound.

Each step I take, a sudden crack,

like time itself is reeling back.

To that other climb, the same tight space,

the fear that etched itself on my face.

The pressure builds, a silent scream,

this hollow shaft, a waking dream.

And when I stop, the sounds remain,

a pulsing rhythm, driving pain,

until the silence comes to claim

the lingering memory of that name.