When The Fog Rolls Thick – a poem

When the fog rolls thick over my soul,

It smooths over stone markers

Drawing a blurry plain for the eye

And fading the harsh edges of rocks.

 

When the fog rolls thick over my soul,

It clings to the cracks and parched places

Like some weird heavenly lotion,

Smelling faintly of lavender and earth.

 

When the fog rolls thick over my soul,

I am held in cool and comforting embrace

Arms that make me forget the future

And the fears hidden on the trail ahead.

 

When the fog rolls thick over my soul,

The sun’s light glimmers pathways

Through cotton-balled, thickened air,

Illuminating just the footfall ahead.

 

This morning, I went running. More and more, that’s not unusual despite my tightly held mantra of hating exercise; however, as I’ve faced a lot of confusion and uncertainty this past year, I’ve looked for a way to cope that didn’t include overeating, sleeping too much, or reading forever and ever. I’ve turned to exercise. It gets me out of bed in the morning.

Today, the fog welcomed me as I jogged on flat farmer’s paths and sprinted up hills so I could feel the wind in my hair and be at the top of the hill quicker. The world felt safer, softer, and lace-lovely. I wasn’t even embarrassed when I nodded good morning to another runner who found me balled up sobbing one morning in the middle of the running path because life was too hard to handle and every bit of me was grieved.

And as I ran, the words above began to jumble together. I’m not a poet, but I love beauty.

If you relate to these words at all, I’d love to hear from you: facebook, pinterest, instagram, google+, linkedin…so many options.

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