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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

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.

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:


Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)

I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)

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