Acts of God

Sept 1 2011

All that’s left of the world

is this hot-house interior

in the green dashboard glow.

The fog

enclosing me,

windows misting over,

as I ascend

through cooler layers of air.

My high-beams are useless,

thick absorbent gauze

soaking up the light,

turning fog

an impenetrable wall of white.

So slow

I can hear the gravel crunch

heater’s steady hum

hypnotic thump

of wipers.

I could just as well be airborne

on another planet,

out of space, and time.

The miasma thins

a I climb from the hollows,

gathers close

as I dip back down.

Relief, dangled just out of reach

abruptly snatched away.

My breathing, tense     

stiff shoulders, neck,

death-grip on the wheel.

This takes stupendous concentration

on a winding road

with soft shoulders

a solid wall of trees.

An eternity, it seems,

arriving late, but blameless.

An act of God, or Nature

as you will.

I should have stopped

walked blindly into the woods,

stumbling, circling, feeling my way

arms out-stretched.

I should have found a fallen tree

on which to sit, and wait,

in the eerie stillness

the cool mist.

A servant of God, observer of Nature,

whichever you wish.

Until, in the fullness of time, the fog lifts

and I am freed

to continue on,

with the click of ignition, engine roaring to life

the harsh invasive light.

Monastic silence

broken,

sanctuary defiled.

Ending my brief respite from time.

Which carried on

without me.

So I make haste.

And in the wash of my wake

my fog-bound state

is forgotten just as fast;

the thinning wisps of a dream

when you’re jolted back.

Lost

in the exultation of speed.

I originally wanted to call this In The Fullness of Time; but realized I’d already used that title. (Not that I haven’t repeated before; just that it’s something I’d rather avoid.) The expression is intended to counsel patience. But what I like about it is the implication of attentiveness, engagement, mindfulness:  that is, of using time fully; of being fully present. …And this is, after all, another poem about the malleability of time.

On the other hand, Acts of God is, I think, a very effective attention-grabber – an important function for a title. And in that it refers to an attitude of fatalism, isn’t far off the mark. Because this is another poem about surrender:  to nature, to fatalism, to contingency. …Or to God; if that’s how you’re inclined to see things.

Everything about this poem was hard to write. So if it seems easy, it wasn't. Although I'll be extremely pleased to hear that. Because that's exactly my job:  to make the end result seem effortless, natural, artless.