Death on Everest

Don't leave me!
That shrill cry pierces the icy air,
You turn, frost bitten and blue with cold,
To look back at the person who made the plea,
She is lying there, pure white,
Pale as death,
Not moving, breathing ever so slightly,
On the face of Everest.
You had tried to help her,
You did everything you could,
But her muscles have all collapsed,
She is like a rag doll, so frail, unmoveable,
Her lungs are struggling to draw breath,
Each intake is sharp, like a jagged knife in her chest.
The elements will have their way,
They are slowly drawing every inch of life,
From her once energetic body,
And you know that if you stay there,
They will do the same to you too,
Leaving you to make the heartbreaking choice,
Of should you stay or should you go?

(Death on Everest achieved for me something I never thought possible - publication in an actual book, DCU Book Soc's 2008 Creative Writing Anthology to be precise, and it is something I remain proud of to this day and for many more days to come).