Eyesight in History

[DonSchaeffer]

Through the fog
of memory, I still see
the outline of an ordinary story
I am not afraid to tell.
But I am at the edge
of strangeness.
Is it a variation of a
safe and ordinary story
just wrapped in fear
or is it another world?
I am uttering goodbye
to things I used to trust
even as I grip the walls
and cling to the floor.
I can't even see or remember.
My adventure is a new type.
I lose my grip on today
and slide into an historic
fantasy.