This Is Not a Wound

This is not a wound.

It's a doorway straight into my heart

a gate, flung open and will never close.

This is not pain.

It's my bowed head, to the majesty of your death

bent by the immense weight of your loss

this is not pain.

This is not guilt.

This is the part of me,

that trades its life to have you back

to melt into love simply to be with you

this is not guilt.

This is not anger.

But just a part of me

that wants to burn everything

to turn the hands of time

to change the past

this is not anger.

This is not grief.

This is a part of me

that draws portraits of you

and carves your name on mountainsides

and sings the words "I love you"

everyday, and nothing else

this is not grief.

This is not a wound.

This is a gateway to the depth of my love

lined with incense and candles

I go there sometimes

to lie down and dream of you

this is not a wound.

This is the gate that will never close

and inside, I host huge concerts

soundtracks of my memories of you

and where I, alone, am the audience

this is not a wound.

This is the way to my heart

and it's open, longing for you

I will hold the lantern

so you may find it in the dark

this is not a wound.