hope

Mountain fog

The cloud creeps down the mountainside

Belly to the ground, as though sniffing its prey.

Nothing is sacred; nothing is safe

From the cold, damp fogginess of its intrusion,

Penetrating every crack and crevice;

A pervading darkness and dankness.

The warm air holds its breath, prescient

Of its obliteration, as it capitulates

To condensation and the first drizzle

Transpires as from the ground

Precipitating a cold and vicious,

Slapping rain, that soaks to the core.

For now, the cloud has won, but we shall

Look for the sun and the rainbow to come.

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I stand by the road
Watching the sun rise:
Dissipating the early morning fog
Which has hung like a blur
Across the landscape.
The frost freezes my toes and fingers
And my breath, a smoky dragon breath
Hangs in the morning air.

First there was nothing
Not a hand before my face
Could be seen in the dark whiteness;
As though the world was lost to me.

Even the sounds were muffled.

But then comes a glimmer
Turning grey to yellow
So that cloudiness
Thins into suffused brightness.
And then with one intense burst of sunlight,
The world throws off its murky past.
And all that seemed lost is found.
The birds trill their morning greetings.
And the road ahead emerges,
A winding, uncertain track
Reaching into the distance.
But now I know which way to travel.
I start out, gladly, full of hope.

I wrote this poem as a metaphor. It is about emerging from depression. It is possible to feel lost, as though every person, thing and place we know has changed and disappeared from our lives; as though we are cut off and shrouded from the world and can find no future. That is the dark night in the fog. However, gradually, oh so gradually light emerges; we begin to see a way forward and no matter how uncertain it is, it is so important to recognise the way and take the chance. For there is always a way forward, no matter how far we have sunk into ourselves.

via Daily Prompt: Disappear