The fissure is felt daily
as I move from hour to hour,
an opaqueness in back references
over which I have no power,
a blank between the shorelines
of the old life and the new,
stretching forth to hold at bay
cogent links between the two.
Memory plays hide-and-seek
with signposts abruptly showing
then vanishing all over again --
stashed away beyond my knowing.
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