Oblique Prayer

Not the profound dark
night of the soul

and not the austere desert
to scorch the heart at noon,
grip the mind
in teeth of ice at evening.

but gray,
a place
without clear outlines,

the air
heavy and thick

the soft ground clogging
my feet if I walk,
sucking them downwards
if I stand,

Have you been here?
is it

a part of human-ness

to enter
no man's land?

I can remember
(is it asking you
that
makes me remember?)
even here

the blessed light that caressed the world
before I stumbled into
this place of mere
not-darkness.