"The Dream of a Common Language" by Adrienne Rich. I carried it the entire hike. On my first night, when I felt like I was in too deep, I read the first poem out loud to myself over and over.

You have to keep walking, no matter what. If you don't, it's a living death. You're just standing in one place dying.

It's a long life, sweetheart, and time heals all wounds.

Be brave enough to break your own heart.

Your assumptions about the lives of others are in direct relation to your naïve pomposity. Many people you believe to be rich are not rich. Many people you think have it easy worked hard for what they got. Many people who seem to be gliding right along have suffered and are suffering. Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you.

I'd walk and think about my entire life. I'd find my strength again, far from everything that had made my life ridiculous.

I was amazed that what I needed to survive could be carried on my back. And, most surprising of all, that I could carry it.