Robert Fulton Laird

My Heart

Time and space are but
a bad memory.

The moment,
my new sanctity.

For years,
I thought I could see.

But now, I’m stuck free.

I close my eyes
I plug my ears
time— space—
hard as I can,
far from that place.

So, the best for me
will be so much—
that when I open—
unplug—
what’s real, I’ll touch.

All denied me, from the start—
before imposed, my heart.