Plath’s 1963 poem Sheep in Fog is one of my favourites. In my darker moments it expresses so succinctly exactly how I feel. After Storm Ciara had calmed down a little I walked along the cliff tops and saw - a ship in fog! It resulted in the following. My apologies and my gratitude to Sylvia Plath.
Ship in Fog
The container ship navigates the estuary
In a mist tendrilled shroud.
And I who can barely contain myself
Watch in dolorous silence.
Trapped in my own fog,
Disappointing and failing.
I watch the ship glide,
Through dark water.
It doesn't threaten me.
It can't see me.
I hold my own mists,
Reality fogged.
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