Like A Spectre Poem by James Tipp

Like A Spectre



Like a spectre, the sign of joy hangs over me
Disturbs my very being,
Transports me to another place,
Shatters my todays, with its yesterdays.
Like a fly trapped in amber I struggle
But the past holds firm, and hardens.
I awake and the present is bathed
In yesterdays sweat and humiliation.
I groan with the pain and terror
Such are the dreams we carry in secret
Exploding unexpected into our presence
Destroying our peace and calm.
But they are only dreams, memories
Locked away and shuttered down
The present is a million miles away.
Some of the lines etched on me
Were made by those very memories
But He has transformed them
Turned dross to gold for other’s use.
Yet still they linger cling like gossamer
All I have become, all I am, is made
In the furnace of time, all achievement
Scar ridden, mysterious, yet transformed.
I look behind, the road that I have travelled
I recognise I have moved on, yet the pain is real.

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