Don’t tell me time will heal
or that one day there will be blue skies
and I’ll feel better.
Those phrases are for you, not me.
Don’t tell me there will be other children
to love… I want THAT child.
Don’t tell me of your friend who also lost a child
and is now “Over it”.
They aren’t.
They just don’t want to hear the platitudes,
so their tears are kept at home,
in the quiet of the night.
When you tell me time will heal
I wonder how.
How will time heal a pain so deep that
it burns my heart?
How will time heal a sore that reopens
every time that anniversary or birthday comes around?
When Christmas morning comes, and I smile for the other children,
who need a normal life,
Don’t think that time has healed.
It hasn’t.