Losing interest in one’s own life

halfway up the endless mountain where

belonging has been the peak,

purchase now feels impossible,

feet sliding backwards down scree.

Where to go from here?

Is there a there?

Noticing breaths are shallow,

stopping,

inhaling slowly and fully with butt on stone

to face whatever is to be faced..

a monster? more fear? loss, even still?

a sunset of oranges and purple?

an ambling mountain goat?

the wind, a waiting messenger for stillness?

Sitting, breathing on steep side of a mountain,

maybe that’s the all,

inevitable movement to begin again

in some direction or another

eventually.