Lost In Fog

Out among the bracken, the rocks and the dead fog has risen

Covered with mud and dew

Almost blinded by branches that stab through the cloak

This used to be a forest

Now it is damp ash, mould, death and bone

Lured here by voices carried on winds that batter

By howling and singing of drowning and final gasps

The chattering of the dead mesmerises and urges me to fall

To be trapped beneath the cloak

Spoiled in the bog

Breathing moss that fingers and joins one's blood

That will flow to this mass womb of lost, drifting, mad shadows