By Sheila Dougal
Some days a lead cloud presses,
keeping my head downward,
backing away, shrinking
into obscurity, feeling like Naomi,
“I went away full, and the LORD has brought me back empty.”
On those brow-furrowed days, bent
like sweet peas after a heavy rain,
I’ve learned to lift my head, defiant.
There’s something about raising
your face to the sky like a protest.
It’s hard to look up
down here in the weeds,
in the years that feel like ash,
blown away somewhere in
a world full of memories.
Sheila Dougal lives in the low deserts of Arizona with her husband and sons. Some of her poetry and essays are published at Fathom Mag, Clayjar Review, The Gospel Coalition, The Joyful Life Magazine and other publications. You can also find her at her blog, Cultivating Faithfulness, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.
Sheila's other work on Foreshadow:
Descent (Poetry, June 2023)
Ode to the Day (Poetry, July 2023)
Invitation (Poetry, August 2023)
Advice for the Long Walk Home (Poetry, September 2023)