The views expressed in the Writer-in-Residence blogs are those held by the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of Open Book: Toronto.
This is a Confession Not a Poem
Submitted by ahoma on February 23, 2012 - 11:01am
I have pushed away that perpetual presence and neglected the past.
Now,
In my excavation for meaning,
In my urge to justify an insignificant existence,
I walk back to find a lost me in the dusty, dark hallways.
Time and I run away in opposite directions.
