Lantern in the Mist, was written as part of PoCoChapMo 2024 but transformed into a mini ghost-epic.
I return to mist a lot in my work.
I grew up in Eastern Canada where the cold Labrador current meets the warm waters of the Gulf Stream. The inevitable fog played a role in life there.
As I worked on Lantern in the Mist, it felt like I was back—living on the island, wrapped in a comforting blanket.
I had no intention of writing a ghost story. I finished the draft and put it aside, to take up the next day's challenge.
The inciting mystery, and the feeling of being drawn beyond understanding.
“A lantern shimmers in the mist? It draws me, as fate insists...” “I must follow, till the tale addressed, In icy mist, whose lantern gleams?” —From Lantern in the Mist
I've talked about the unfinished and incompletes before. Lantern in the Mist talked to me, urging me to continue. I held back.
While assembling PoCoChapMo 2024 poetry collection, I read Lantern in the Mist, and then read it again!
It is indeed a ghost story. Let me explain...
When I was a teen, we lived in a cottage on the lake. On a cold December night, my alcoholic father wandered into the night, across the frozen water.
I followed his footsteps and fortune that he had not one far. I half-dragged, half-carried him back to the warmth of the cottage.
Lantern in the Mist was a poetic retelling from my point of view—But it wanted more.
I tried to write Lantern in the Mist Revisited from my father's eyes. It started as "what if I was not home that night, where would he have gone?"
Lantern in the Mist Revisited is his last trek.
“No mortal hand holds it thus— Yet there it burns and I must trust...” —From Lantern in the Mist Revisited
It meandered along, until another memory raised its hand. My father had suffered from heart disease for years and slipped into a coma, after another stroke.
I had moved with my family to Ontario and we made the long drive back home.
I said my goodbye and he said his silently. I was at peace and returned to Ontario, while he laid in the hospital bed. A few days later, he woke from his coma, accepted his time—and went gently into the night.
“I reached to flee—then saw my hand was made of mist, not bone or brand...” “They welcome me with ghostly grace.” —From Lantern in the Mist Revisited
I have a third poem in this Lantern sequence—Search for the Lantern in the Mist continues my own journey and the acceptance of my father's death.
The seeker’s sorrow, love, and final understanding.
“You vanished past the orchard’s rim Where frost hangs thick and dusk grows dim.” “A figure stands where day grows dark, the barn door swings, roused from sleep’s mark.” “When the misty lantern returns, I know for whose soul it will yearn.” —From Search for the Lantern in the Mist
For me, I didn't put a meaning to the poems until they sat for a while. I wonder if every poem has that thread of mystery waiting to be discovered.
🪶 Should I include Search for the Lantern in the Mist in my PoCoChapMo 2024 collection?
Interesting to see how these poems took on new life and meaning as time went on.
To answer your question - yes, I think it would be nice to have them all together in the same collection.
What a well thought out post, Herb! I am very much intrigued by the Mist sequence and would love to read them all together!
I always describe poems as treasure hunts, and we need to break them down and find the golden nuggets. But I also like the thread of mystery analogy!
I do think some poems reveal themselves over time. Perhaps, if one is dealing with difficult or emotional issues, it may take time to find one’s way through undisclosed thicket to a clarity of clearing. There might be iterations of the poem still in evidence later on, when more time and distance have separated you. Maybe, even, you might have a cycle or a longer piece waiting in the wings to be discovered. I find poetry is a giant guess. What’s so wonderful about it is the fact that it is a journey that takes you places to show you truth, where you might never have thought to look.