I seek the sadness in the crowd of seven faces

I’m surprised by so many.

I stand inside this dead house honouring my father.


As a child I prayed every night

I asked God for forgiveness that only I could give

– but how do you forgive fear?


I stand inside this dead house sheltering my heart

colder than the frigid limbs hidden in the coffin

Maybe one day I will forgive

but not today. The dead body will not change it. 

Then I remember.


You are still alive. 


Firstly, I have to leave a note to my sister – I am perfectly fine, I am happy, this little scribble is just something I have been working on for a while and is absolutely not a reflection of my current mood or state of mind.

Ok that’s it, sorry – last time I published something similar I think I got her little worried 🙂

Secondly, I have to say – I’m having so much fun attending this writing class – I’m looking forward to the weekend just to read some of the other poems and meet new people. I have only managed a fraction so far and I am impressed by the talent that is here. Well done you folks!


Writing 201: Fog

7 thoughts on “Fog

  1. Nicely done. 🙂 I completely understand your postscript, I’ve caused such a reaction with close friends with some of my writing which, more often than not, is the vapour trail left by the moment.


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