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.

 

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