The Fog

There are mornings when I wake where I am still immersed in a fog of sorrow. Too many unanswered questions, too many thoughts that pull me back to a past that cannot be changed, or even understood. The fog gathers in my mind, clouding me from seeing today. It makes me feel lost, alone and on the brink of madness. The fog scares me.

I know it will pass, I know it will pass.

As I paddle across its murkiness, and begin the tasks of the day, the fog dissipates slowly but surely and my focus becomes more clear.

Don’t look back at the fog, I say to myself, don’t look back…

But every morning, on those low barometer days, the fog can be found, and in it lay my fears.

(Jan. 2006)

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