On having hands

I climb because I have hands.
Because I was born with feet on the ground and a roof overhead.
Because I want to see over the hill.
I climb because I have hands.
Because tripping isn’t falling and I crave the impact.
Because maybe the void is right.
I climb because I have hands.
Because the alternative is to walk.
Because god breaks legs.
I climb because I have hands.

The hands aren’t mine.
I climb because I have hands.