foggy morning prayer

God of cloud and haze,
mist and fog,

we know it’s not just the condensation
of low lying water vapor
that obscures the familiar

into a strangely foreign landscape,

but the experience of disorienting circumstance as well:
the diagnosis,
the goodbye,
the accident,
the stress,
the fatigue,
the fear—

that leaves us probing
the vague indistinct
of the extent to which we see
brought in so close
and yet not clear,

and there’s no looking past—
no looking beyond—
in the disconnected intensity
of looking at the alien here,

and amidst our prayers that You burn away
our shrunken horizons
in the heat and clarity of light,

may we know and choose the discipline
that allows us to see
a haunting otherworldly beauty
amidst what is only right here and right now.



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