Time and Reminiscence

I've lain here for some time    
trying to locate an old wound.        
I cannot gauge its depth, nor        
trace the jagged edges of its corruption.        
Still, but for sepsis and fever        
I would stand.          
          
The failing sight of this mind's eye          
holds out little hope for correction,        
little hope for ablation of the growing        
cataracts on my conscience.        
          
But for sepsis and fever          
I would kneel and pray for anamnesis,        
for the reassembly of these dusky shards        
of remembrance.          
          
I've lain here trying to discern        
what un-remembered love and laughter        
may cling white-knuckled from this      
blurry carousel of memory.          
      
I pray I may discover        
that wounds form the shorter spans        
of my history.