For this week's #ThrowbackThursday I'm sharing a poem I wrote roughly two years ago. I think it reads almost like a mini-story...
A misty morning in Kandy
Shrouded in fog
The city is shrouded in fog
A mysterious form of natural smog
Turning the urban mire into a treacherous bog
Swarming with lethal life underneath a suspiciously calm blanket
In off-white that seems tainted and ghostly, not innocent
The city hides behind a misty veil
Holding her breath forever polluted and stale
Stalling like a coy bride in a long forgotten romantic tale
As if biding her time to face the inevitable evil of the outside world
Curling in on herself, drawing in a shaky breath before the scream
The city is all decked out in white
If not for the silhouetted beauty a real fright
Trying to cleanse and reinvent itself in vain but with all might
For the fog rises, settles and is stirred up again like a cloud of dust
Like the smoky swirls over a cauldron full of hellish ingredients
The city is covered in eerie mist
Reminds of a nightmare with a twist
Not an open hand inviting but a hard closed fist
Keeping the good, the bad and the grey middle under an invisibility cloak
That is new to its job and jerks random items into shocking visibility
The city is enveloped in its own wings
Like a fallen angel or a bird that haltingly sings
A broken, silent, heartbreaking song of unspoken, unspeakable things
What can't be obliterated is tolerated, blunt edges softened by a silk cloth
Of a fog so dense that it shrouds even itself, and seems endless
The city boasts a misty cloud
Whose silence seems almost loud
The suspense before the renewed cacophony of the crowd
That views the fog as temporary hibernation, man-made, a favour
Though the mist has its own will and belongs to nature
© Devika Fernando
The city is shrouded in fog
A mysterious form of natural smog
Turning the urban mire into a treacherous bog
Swarming with lethal life underneath a suspiciously calm blanket
In off-white that seems tainted and ghostly, not innocent
The city hides behind a misty veil
Holding her breath forever polluted and stale
Stalling like a coy bride in a long forgotten romantic tale
As if biding her time to face the inevitable evil of the outside world
Curling in on herself, drawing in a shaky breath before the scream
The city is all decked out in white
If not for the silhouetted beauty a real fright
Trying to cleanse and reinvent itself in vain but with all might
For the fog rises, settles and is stirred up again like a cloud of dust
Like the smoky swirls over a cauldron full of hellish ingredients
The city is covered in eerie mist
Reminds of a nightmare with a twist
Not an open hand inviting but a hard closed fist
Keeping the good, the bad and the grey middle under an invisibility cloak
That is new to its job and jerks random items into shocking visibility
The city is enveloped in its own wings
Like a fallen angel or a bird that haltingly sings
A broken, silent, heartbreaking song of unspoken, unspeakable things
What can't be obliterated is tolerated, blunt edges softened by a silk cloth
Of a fog so dense that it shrouds even itself, and seems endless
The city boasts a misty cloud
Whose silence seems almost loud
The suspense before the renewed cacophony of the crowd
That views the fog as temporary hibernation, man-made, a favour
Though the mist has its own will and belongs to nature
© Devika Fernando
Who or what is lurking in the fog?
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