Adjusting to life's changes with hope… through poetry, haiku, and commentary

In the Absence of Time


I never thought of myself as
impulsive. Not my character
flaw. Indecision is one of mine.

There was a time I thought I
was decisive. Probably never
was. Abuse killed everything.

Except for the illusion of life
that suspended me between
heaven and hell like the living
dead.

That is the place where our
fantasies and the lies we were
told meet. That is where I live.

If fear was the father of my
indecision, then helplessness
was my mother; the parents of
my terror within.

My impulsiveness may be
expressed by an electronic
twitch, a press of ENTER or
DELETE in haste.

I’m intimately acquainted with
instant loss in may forms.
Gain is a stranger.

Impulsiveness may masquerade
as decisiveness, but real hope
and faith cannot be disguised.

No matter how bad things seem
your life is uniquely your own
every step along the way.

Give thanks.

Then the worst terror, fear, and
pain are suspended for a moment
in the absence of time.

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