Haze

The air is thick with mystery so it’s hard to breath. 

And I can’t see the place where the sky and waters meet. They are a glassy white sheet as high and low as I can see. 

And half the time, I wonder if my paddle is even going in the right place. Let alone if my boat behaves, or my eyes betray me. 

It seems not too long ago the skies were clear, crisp, and there you were. 

My lighthouse, beaming at me in glorious light, such a clear display of brightness to illuminate my life. 

And I could sail on in harmony with your moving light. 

You can’t be so far now. I know you haven’t moved, you haven’t changed shape, your light hasn’t gone out, or else life would be shadows and not this white haze. 

Not vague, misty, glassy white haze all around me. Not betraying any discernible shapes, but still the place between me and light. 

It’s been a fog so long I hardly remember your shape. I relish the memory of the gentle waves. 

They come like a battleground now, tossing me in different ways, and I’ve nothing to grasp but the mist that disappears between my fingers, leaving me falling straight.

I thought, if only I could trace the lines of that clear sky long ago. If I could map the rocks where you stood your ground, I could pretend you were still here and I still knew what was going on. 

And yet I know you’re here. Otherwise there would be no white. But I don’t know where, and I can’t see where you’re pointing. I just see haze. 

And I must admit, the haze descended when your rays landed on islands of suffering that sealed my fate. 

When the treasure was heartbreak, I started to question your ways. 

And the boat began to sink. And the clouds began to drift. And the waves gained length and stuck their necks out all around me. 

And I thought you’d pull me out of my drowning, but I’ve been left here in this boat. In this mist of nothingness. 

What if the next place is worse than before? The next stepping stone another painful place that steals more years of my life? 

My heart can’t go through much more, Lord. My arms are weary from paddling, trying to keep myself afloat. 

The waves are tall and I’m afraid. I’m as good as blind and isolated in this endless sea. 

You said you would always be with me. Where? What does that mean when your love feels like a dream, a fantasy and not a memory? 

I used to love your light, now I hide from it. I close my eyes when the beams swing toward me. I don’t want to know. 

I so easily play with shapes in the fog and manufacture my own ways. 

They always end in heartbreak. Always fading into the sand and never taking shape. 

Why am I so afraid? I feel scarred by life, wounded on all sides, filed down by salty waves and tired of looking at an endlessly world of grey. 

Where do I go, Lord? I don’t want to stay in this place. I’m scared of where your light is facing. 

I feel like I don’t know you sometimes. I wonder if I did. I wonder how my picture of you then fits together now. 

Because I don’t feel you like I once did. I don’t see you like I once saw. But I can no longer coexist with the haze. 

Show me how to clear the haze.