There: a being visible
in the edge of the forest,
barely solid in the dusk;
silver mist, cloak with no face within.
Unwilling to find it supernatural
until other options are exhausted,
you call to it using names
of living people it might be,
ending with “Hello? Hello?
when there is no response
and there is still no response
with those greetings. Day dims
and that being, now firm
and opaque, moves into clear sight
in the backyard. You still can’t be certain
of what it is, but it seems honest
and ominous, not trying to hide
as it moves toward you.
You’ve heard of such things
lurking in other lands, poorer lands;
bellwethers, harbingers,
avatars. Perhaps divinity,
perhaps depravity, perhaps
something not defined well
by your limited experience. It seems
all news in recent days suggests
such beings have been among us
at all times, are more numerous
than ever now. You stare at it
approaching across land
you thought was safe,
thought was your own.
It’s stopped now, stands
in your sightline. Takes
the measure of your regard.
Waits for you to name it, then
to move toward it or flee;
waits to name you as well,
since it sees you as a silver mist,
a cloak with no face within.
None of us have names now
or faces. All of us clouds of fear
looming in each other’s woods
on the outskirts of safety.