The Oracle

With one eye looking

ahead and another watching the past.

I have no time for the present

and I lose moments of now

that are too precious

to let go.

I stare behind me

with cold trembling fingers,

frozen in winters ice.

And my being stuck

to the snow-sticky ground

sometimes afraid

of what might lie ahead.

I still move forward

when I stop staring behind.

I am the watcher of doorways,

the oracle of indecision.