Treacherous fog.
Its chilled damp fingers cover my eyes,
Surround my head,
Draw the breath from my lungs.
Then I am an empty shell.
Obscured by fairytale
Wisps of cloud.
And I am beautiful
From what you can’t see,
Like a soft-filtered picture,
Or a candlelit dinner.
And the ghastly cloud
Softens the echo of my
Empty soul.
As soon as they’ve left my mouth.
My prayers vanish,
Fade from sight,
Disintegrate into the
Mess of air,
And nothing is real.

-Lamentations 3:44
You have covered yourself with a cloud
so that no prayer can get through.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: