i keep hoping to find
that secret crime
locked inside my head,
that heinous act
committed against me
that has led
to these long, sad years
of living so far away
from who i long to be.
more wishful thinking,
along with winning the lottery
or meeting that particular woman,
only much sadder,
far more pathetic:
who wishes to uncover
unspeakable acts of degradation
just to have an excuse
for a life poorly lived?
i already have my answers,
but they are 
so mundane,
so ordinary,
so unsatisfying.
there’s no one to blame,
not even myself.
ok, yes, there are people to blame,
those responsible
for the hurts i suffered,
attacks on my dignity
so long ago.
but how useless to turn to blame
when they are dead,
when they have disappeared.
i am the one
left behind in the now & here.
i am the one
who can release the past
and all it never was
so that today can be
exactly as it is.