The calmness surrounds me.
The darkness comes over me.
The trees want to move out, slowly decomposing.
The horizon pulls out the back.
The fog pulls it back in.
It wants to breathe;
something is holding it back.
What’s different today?
What happened overnight?
Is it proper to call out,
to scream,
to cry?
I’m lost.
I’m cold.
I don’t know what to do.
I want to tell you but something is wrong.
The wind blows but nothing moves.
Everything is still.
What can’t things change back?
Why did they change at all?
What was there is now gone—
the colors, the life,
the bright turned into dark.
-Shannel Maxwell, Bloomfield-