scree.

branches over running stream

listening,
the sound of scree,
white noise
of shock
of grief

of be-numbing bewilderment.
of the blank bleak wonder of
horror.

poleaxed.
after i did my best.

slipped
from my grasp.

lost
over the edge.

left.
behind.

seated
on chasm’s lip,
listening
to the scree falling
past me – with you.

past me, past the end
of this physical life,

you’ve fallen over into
the future –

the forever now
of eternity.

heaven or hell,
i do know, i do not fear.

but, still.

wonder why, this time

after this long slide –
one more bloody slide
down one more
bloody
hill –

after so many
wilderness breakdowns,
battles for equilibrium,
wars against sickness, and

walkabouts through the rings of
hell, why
this time
was different – why

this time –

i failed you?

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