THEY

THEY say time heals all wounds.

I wonder, “Who are THEY?”

Have THEY known such anguish

that sears the skin, leaving

gauzy layers that seep

through gingerly wrapped flesh?

Are THEIR dreams dicey treks,

where THEY face torment and

unpredictable fate?

Do THEY live and breathe fear

of the villainous hands

that haunt THEIR sleepless hours?

I want to believe in THEM,

but how long is the time

for these wounds to be healed?

THEY say forgive and forget.

I repeat, “Who are THEY?”

Are THEY called on each night

by wicked memories,

with each vision vying

for the pole position?

Is THEIR sleep stolen and

THEIR wakefulness blurred

as THEY fight to forget?

~

How do THEY forget it

if all THEIR efforts

to forgive are in vain?

~

I want to meet with THEM

and ask if THEY too say

that ignorance is bliss?

Why, then, should I believe

THEM?