A Mist Shrouded Path

In solitude I roamed a mist shrouded path

where thick icy fog swallowed every faint sound,

a victim of loss, and it seems, heaven’s wrath.

In my heart a sharp pain I had carefully bound;

numb feet took me deeper into the damp gray

as if some enlightenment, there could be found.

I stopped near a spectral tree, kneeling to pray.

in answer there came to me only deep gloom;

in anger, I’d cast my faith blindly away.

My wife and child, lost before new life could bloom.

Alone now, consumed by this unending pain,

the fog encased silence reflected my doom.

No solace would my shattered heart now obtain,

as slowly I choked on this black, evil grief.

Ah! Trapped in this lonely hell, I would remain!

The pain in my core had dissolved my belief;

now, without my family, I’d nothing to lose.

If God was in heaven, then he was a thief!

From all of mankind, why would my loves he choose?

All hope has been lost in death’s poisonous bath,

the future holds naught but bleak days and gray hues--

with no way to vent all the pain my soul hath,

in solitude, I roamed a mist shrouded path.

** This form, the terza rima, is one that was made popular by the Italian poet

Dante Alighieri, with his classic poem The Divine Comedy. I have found it a great way to tell narrative stories to the rhythmic cadence that is metered poetry.