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The shock was solid as a punch

That left me breathless, faint, unmanned;

So obviously lost that chair and water came

And it was I – so very briefly – nursed

Until my mind began to grasp the truth it had shunned.


How could I not have guessed or known

The woe, the pain, the destruction?

After all these many years, my failure to feel –

My hiding from the very possibility of horror –

Still strikes: so hard as that first blow.


We became blind through intimacy

Yet we were one union of body, heart and soul

I lived within her and she within me: one mind, one thought,

But the bond failed – I did not comprehend her need.

She left,

            and I live on knowing the chasm of that failure


◄ Beyond

The Consultant (Revelation, first draft) ►


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Chris Armstrong

Sat 22nd Jul 2017 15:44

I'll add the first draft. C

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Fri 21st Jul 2017 16:29

This is a very sensitive and strong poem, self-destructive but perhaps, in its own way, a healing.

I am intrigued by the ambiguity of the message. The words and effective feeling could apply to a woman in miscarriage, or a still birth. I realise you are a gentleman. Perhaps even a daughter or son committing suicide, or simply a child leaving home in young adulthood after bitter words. Or, lastly, a split between two adults who have been a couple.

Considering the title, the poem has many tentacles. Surely a fine thing.

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