Fiction of Presence
by Teri Buford O'Shea

You told this terrible lie

A rupture of your usual honesty

Because you truly believed I was delusional

Of course I wasn’t a Survivor

You surmised

My hands trembled with the fear of fate

When I spilled my heart before you

You questioned my intentions

Refused to be embraced by reality

You chose not to believe

How I suffered to exist all these years

Turned my memories into blasphemy

Somewhere behind your suspicions

You might have been profoundly worried

So much so that you chose doubt over truth

Too convinced to check the facts yourself

Tears left no scars to prove my tale

Yet I am here   proof enough

I am not a fiction of presence

(Teri Buford O’Shea is a frequent contributor to the jonestown report. Her other poem in this edition is Survivors’ Rights. Her collection of poetry on the site is here.)