If I Could Meet Myself for the First Time Again

I know now
time does not heal all wounds.
What changes is our relationship to it.
We learn to carry it differently,
work around it, hold it, ignore it,
as pain seeps out of our heart,
and into our bones to fortify.

I would like to have a moment with you,
before I knew your story,
understood your shape,
and your journey,
to regard your potential
free from the weight of skepticism.

The kind that grows from missed moments,
and mistakes, and leaves ruins behind you
unrecognizable in the heat that dances
atop desert sand. 

Your body, too, is burning up,
turning against you,
and the sorest spot is the only spot
you can’t reach.

I can’t help you.
Just lie down,
let the ghosts from those ruins
sing their song of loss,
I will follow those voices
and find you

to talk to you about the dream
we carried across time,
flying, watching the world below
encased in neon flames,
which seemed surreal and untouchable.

As those flames reach you,
remember how things regenerate after fire,
and how when they don’t,
they are complete.