Procession in Fog
Squeezed out by the heavy feet
of mourners, an unearthly fog
rises from hell. Day after day, the dead
pass my door, followed like a shadow
by those who can still pray or dig.
I think I see Mother,
and she’s been gone ten years.
Death, like a new pastor, busily
makes the rounds to every household
I have nothing more to say to God
for myself, but ask mercy for parents
who plead, Please, Lord, please.
Take me instead.
This poem was written for the surprise Halloween ekphrastic challenge.
Alarie’s latest poetry book, Waking on the Moon, contains many poems first published by The Ekphrastic Review. Please visit her at alariepoet.com.
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