Psalm 143

There’s a creeping haze when you’re lost.
It sets in softly at first.
“Shouldn’t there be a trail marker?”
“I thought the landmark was here.”

Then panic is a wakened child.
Frantic bees in your rib-cage
signal to your infant terrors.
The earth’s beauty is lost too.

In the swirling of land and leaf
and sky, twilight is hostile –
an enemy you battle with.
The canopy will hide stars.

For me, as the darkness crept in,
my nerves steeled against the night.
My self-trust was a lost compass.
It was then that I saw lights.

Psalm 143

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