I’m back with Tuesday Tales.  I am taking some writing classes right now, so thought I would share some of that work with y’all. Another poem for you.

The Fog

I cannot see my hand
though it reaches ahead,
grasping in front of my face,
searching for fence
or wall to steady my progress.

Distant cries from ships burrow into my ears.
I imagine floating
men straining to see,
binoculars on eyes,
watchful for collisions.

In front of me a shade,
ghostly white, fragmenting edges
growing larger. I pause as
another human joins me
in this crushing smoke of apocalypse.

They pass, I look behind
and they are gone, swallowed whole in grey.
To them, I am the one gone …I ask myself, do I exist,
walking here, in clouds, in mist,
in heaven, or in hell?