Refraction

Something in the optics at this time of year –

The angle of the sun, the height of the clouds,

I don’t know what - catches me every time.

The wavelength trips me backwards

To that day, that afternoon, that minute;

Suddenly shaking, I can’t breathe straight

Or think deeply. I find myself softly weeping,

Taking myself aback with the speed, the rate

Of descent. I’m adrift, once again, on a sea

Of ancient sorrows, with no recollection

At all, of leaving the safety of shore. How did

I get here this time? Pointless introspection.

I should be wiser than this. I thought I knew

The ways of ghosts. I will not blunder again

Into their trap; I will deny and defy them.

I will not drown in my tears while they grow fat on my pain

c Teresa Durran 181110