I Feel Like the Caterpillar

You know the one.  The one with all the arms.  But all my arms and hands are useless without feeling.  My hands are all numb and cold, they've been gripping the ice too long.  The blue ice from way deep down at the bottom of the pit, where you shine a light down and it still looks like an angry mouth about to swallow you up.  I don't know why I wanted to grab that ice in the first place, it was so beautiful, so welcoming, like crystals, shining and inviting.  It's cold like a snake bite, it's frost like pain your memory is first to forget.  But I don't put it down, I pull it close, with all my arms, close to my chest to freeze my heart, and slowly I climb up and out of the abyss.  I clutch it close and climb ever upward.  I don't see the light of day yet, but I know it's there, somewhere, and the promise of it gives me hope and strength to keep climbing, though I'm freezing and I keep slipping back down, I'll keep climbing back up.  Even, if when I emerge from the pit, it's night time, the sun will rise again, and the ice will eventually melt and my arms will thaw, my heart will feel again, and I will see clearly.  I will be free of the pit, of the ice.  I will be in the sun, on the surface, with the colors of daylight and life surrounding me.  I know it's not today, and it may not be tomorrow, but it will be one day, so I will keep on climbing with my ice crystals and my caterpillar arms.