I have not been more at peace
nor been closer to my true being
than our time here, in the wilds
of Alaska, surrounded by mountains,
glaciers, and each other.

The path through the
heavy pine and white fog
will become the destination
you choose.


This reader suggested poem is “Fog” by Carl Sandburg.

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Poem shared from the following resources.


If I pull back the thick fog
they still consume my eyes.

If I run into the water and let go,
let the waves push and pull me as

I fall toward the floor, they
consume my conscious thoughts

and what was empty and calm
becomes clouded and my next

actions are in conflict to
what I was taught and I am

left with the ancient memories,
a stain of my former being.

No words
No words

Sometimes word just get in the way of the image.  The image speaks everything we want to say and everything we are afraid to say, and everything we are unable to say.

A video by Twisted Root Studios of fog racing across Lake Superior where it is -20 with spring-like sun.

This poem was written as a response to the visual prompt at Northography.


We walked the shoreline
into the thick fog.

Guided by instincts
closed eyes and the

way feet touch the ground
we fell into the fog.

Days passed as we
felt safe, held by

something we did not
know or understood.

Questions fell away
after the fog lifted.

Morning purple sky
becomes a thick icy
fog consuming the
landscape until
the only path,
the only way forward
is through the white veil
with eyes closed and
the future in my hands.

2013-12-28 08.52.38
Fog in the distance
2013-12-28 10.48.51
Snowy field
2013-12-28 11.01.06
Touching the snowbank
2013-12-28 11.25.06
Icy fog creeping in

Who or what is God?
Thinking back…

I found myself wallowing in
the void, self-created and endless.
Days had no definition,
no number – fueled by the routine
I let go of hope, giving myself in.

I let the fog consume the landscape
until the last light I saw
disappeared and I no longer
had direction.

Feelings and connection to the
world around me became numb and
the people I so dearly loved

I walked in that fog for years
with a disconnected consciousness
I let the sub-conscious set the
path I was taking, the instincts
kept me upon some tangible path
until it was time, until something
inside of me reached up, into my skull
and removed the veil from my mind.

Things became more clear. but I was
uneasy with why, how, and what changed
in me. What triggered this unveiling,
where did the energy come from to
provide enough momentum to push
forward the mass of burden and weight
I was carrying, to allow breath
to return to these lungs?