© 2018  Kelsey Cronin

    The Fog

    November 7, 2017

    We wake up on this side of eternity,

    Bleary-eyed and tangled in dawn

    Sunlight seeps through curtain gaps, illuminating cracks in walls

    An unwelcome visitor

    We squeeze our eyes shut in the name of freedom,

    That elusive thing


    But bird melodies tear through the morning

    Foggy mist tumbles back up to its source

    Leafy branches tremble in the wind

    River water surges toward the sea


    Eventually we arrive

    Cold and barefoot,

    At the edge of the world


    Borders of the map too small to contain the wonder,

    Chests too small to hold wandering hearts

    So we press our faces to the window,

    anxious to see beyond the rim of reality.

    But our breath fogs up the glass

    And we catch only a glimpse of a glimmer of an outline

    Of moving shapes and muted colors


    But a strange and steady hope flickers on

    That someday the fog will clear

    And the dawn will always be

    And the river will meet the sea

    And the sunlight seeping through closed curtains will no longer burn our sleepy eyes


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