And the Fog Grabbed Me

And the Fog Grabbed Me

(“You were like sheep wandering away. But now you have returned to the Shepherd. He is the one who watches over your souls.” 1 Peter 2:25)

And the fog grabbed me deep gray,
and the streetlights faded away,
and the avenues were dripping,
the roadway was slipping towards the
outside of the city.
I turned the steering wheel and
turned it again. I consulted long abandoned
side streets and could not find the
way home.

The sun had dropped hours ago,
the moon had lost all of its night-glow,
the stars had departed their places,
the fog broke my vision and filled the spaces
between the nose of my car and the
height of a man. I could not understand my
ability to be lost; I had entered the town
in daylight. Was I paying the cost for waiting
too long to journey home?

A green sign barely lit through the haze
seemed to rise from in front of me. A sign
with highway numbers, a sign pointing to the
205.
Cautiously I turned onto the ramp,
breathing heavy only frosted my windshield
and the mist hid most everything else.
I followed a semi out of the city.

I am not harmed by my meandering,
I am only a refugee here.
I had gone to meet a friend who loves music,
I had gone to meet her and busk awhile.
I would have sojourned longer but the night
caught up to me. She is a PhD in psychology,
I’m just a weary member of the clergy.
She is a meditating Buddhist,
I am just a melancholy Christian.

Home came in view after nearly two hours,
the fog grabbed the riverbanks like fingers
from an underwater creature. I still hear
our music as I pull into my drive.