The Mist

Mist floats and clings in vaporous veils,
tenuous, drapes itself in sails,
cross hillsides twined thru twig and tree,
ravines and over streams…and me…
arrives in sheets to swath dim swales.

I cling to dull rocks anxiously,
hands stiff and aching longingly
and stinky ‘neath that clutching throb
my fingers seeking comfort’s swab
with baking torn nails tipped bloody,

…but finding only edges, and
comfort none, not now, not here….

Does it conceal, overtake and choke, tenebrous,
sly in brumous cloak…and conquer with its murky stroke?
Does it linger and embrace, its hovering hazy slinking shrouds
arisen from graves of earth in clouds to blur, obscure,
entwine and coil in its seductive writhing smoke?

Or does it flee instead, heart torn and rent
by trees, peaks, light from heaven sent
to pierce and tear death’s veils away
and shatter dark with argent day
that slashes, straightening all that’s bent?

In mist I wait…in mist, I wait to see…
and coming or going, I am becoming me


12 thoughts on “The Mist

    • Thanks Sissa…you know more of the backstory that this is metaphorically about! What’s weird tho? Lady Grace gave me the title around a month ago, and nothing else…so I sat it in drafts and went on.

      Today, I was in the office with the doors shut and trying to stop crying and snotting all the heck over the place like a giant cow…and whammo…She pops it into my mind, and sez “Write, Baby!”

      So…I started fiddling around, and next thing I knew there it was.

      • Isn’t it great when it comes to you like that? But isn’t it a bit nerve wracking when you just get bits and pieces? I’m mainly a fiction writer and I have characters rattling around in my head- no plot- just characters.

        But when you are inspired like that and the words come to you, it’s an amazing feeling. It sounds like the words came to you just when you needed them most.

        • Let’s see…it was sorta like for me what I watched in my darling when she was pregnant…she couldn’t see the babies, but “knew” them…until they were born and her knowings then had a direction and she understood and “Knew what she knew”.

          What I love is how I can see the adjustments needed, and when I start working on them, a word will leap to the front of my mind, which dominos other words forwards and backwards…until the poem gives a lil hiccup and happy burp and says “all done!”


  1. Pingback: Oops…I did it again! | Charissa's Grace Notes

  2. There is just so much truth here.

    I was hand over heart at this part:

    “…but finding only edges, and
    comfort none, not now, not here….”

    And heart over heart here:

    “In mist I wait…in mist, I wait to see…
    and coming or going, I am becoming me”

    Becoming you, my friend, is a thing of beauty.

  3. Pingback: Update Alert: The Mist and adjustments | Charissa's Grace Notes

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