Fog

My mood
is reflected
in the night
in the fog
in the pre-dawn
four o’clock hour

My mood
is reflected
in the solitude
of my thoughts
Alone.
Again.
Forever.

My mood
is reflected
in all the
unanswered
questions

My mood
is reflected
in the street lamps
as I drive
they keep
sneaking
up on me and
aren’t really
helpful at all
just represent
more questions

My mood
is reflected
in the headlights
and how they
don’t work
in this fog
not when
they’re bright
nor when they’re
dim and something
says stop driving
but I keep going
because I am
American and
we are impatient
to a fault

My mood
is reflected
in the
auspiciousness
of this day
and I find
it strange
that I cried
I got all
red in the
face while
an email
from my
absent
mother
sat awaiting
me and I
did not
even know
it. Or did I?

My mood
is reflected
in all the
moments
that I sit
and I think
and I look
for the
answers
Only to
find I do
not own
them but
they belong
to those
who are
willing to
love me
And they
only belong to
me when I
bend myself
over backwards
to love another

The relief,
the relief
to the pains
of this life
are found
in those
rare vulnerable
spaces in-between
large events when
we innocently
love each other
stranger or
no stranger,
relief creeps
in on you like that

My mood
is reflected
in the fog
in the dark
in the pre-dawn
four o’clock hour

My mood
is reflected
on the
page

6 thoughts on “Fog

  1. I really hope one day I can listen to you read your work. Perhaps we can get all the girls back together and rent another cabin! Have a fire on the beach and chill.

  2. Science tells us that the whole universe is composed mostly of the ” spaces in-between”. I recently read of a physicist who when he realized this, ever after always wore snowshoes so he wouldn’t sink into all that emptiness. He must have really been a poet. Terah, your vulnerability – bless you girl – lets my heart just sink down into those spaces. Don’t despair, your words like seed from a dandylion will find their own space to sink down into . . . and grow. Thank you.

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