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Poem

If you wish we can sit together and talk of ancient wounds
do you know mine
do I know yours

In the stories of our different lives
what purpose would it serve
these life long bruises
that sit and fester in some secret corner
their snippet of a picture
a paragraph in a story you've never really read 
to thoroughly before

If you wish we can sit together
hash it out to discern the truth
if you wish we can accuse each other
without any concrete proof
we can revisit these old and weeping wounds
do I know yours
do you know mine

Shall we target the memories
spin them how we want them to be
paint them with our crippled brush
turn every explanation into an excuse
is this how it will be
these ancient wounds
do I see yours
do you see mine

And in this quagmire revisited
where certain accuracy is but a fog
shall we chase the ghosts
pursue them through the maze of passageways
down the inconsistent corridors of fact

Shall we stab each others voodoo doll
to find where the blood will run
shall we demand there be agreement
on from where these old wounds they have come

Will we blame each other
will we blame ourselves
is the accusation more important than the resolution
a bigger picture much too big
to encompass our delusion

These old and sorrowful wounds
which nothing now can alter
if you wish we can sit and open them
those misspelt and tattered pages
with their frayed and worrisome edges
dog eared for their dictionaries 
which year, what day and when
their never take a look circumnavigation
shall we take a look
do I know yours
do you know mine

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