It rises over the horizon
an image seen by mind or an object perceived by eye
But it is not the thing that affects
it is memory emerged to haunt
Over a field of calm they come
uninvited and untimely
Just things of everyday
but linked to a what was hopefully forgotten
Then they clench and they squeeze and they tear
and will not be shaken off
For any time
that is long enough
Pain rises over the horizon
and the struggle is now and anew
to feel what is not yet come as what is not
to feel as past what is no more
Is the past ever not ahead
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