Paths of the Heavy Lost

Seeming as soaked in salvation as

wet wheat fields

rusted with rain

and the heavy clouded mountains in their fog-wreaths of blue

The air cleared, the humidity sucked out by

The trees, now cool and dripping

rain like liquid mercury, slow

on my torso as I brush by, 

heart rending all the while

face frozen in contortion

from the grinding of my teeth,

I walk.

The grey dew-evening longing

to lend me some relief.

Oh Lord, I've lost my way

with words and with You.