The mountain appeared in front of me
I worried about the climb
It was a rocky and rough path.
The unknown around every corner
Cliffs and drop-offs just out of sight
The lonely path wound through weeds and bushes
I saw no one
I knew the danger was out there
I climbed alone, with no other option
I worried
A fog descended and I knew I should call out
But still I climbed
I rested when I needed
I climbed more and the path seemed smoother
I looked forward, the ground seemed less steep
The fog parted
The beautiful view showed that my mountain had been a steep hill
Next to me were those who cheered me on that I could not hear
Sometimes our mountains are steep hills
And we are rarely alone
We can heal and thrive
We can conquer the mountain, whatever it’s name.
Photo credit: Andrea Ledda