We all carry our history differently inside us,
Some tie memories to leaded fishing weights,
so they can sink deep deep deep,
Others coat them in hard glossy varnish,
so they gleam–better than new.
One trots out faded high school glories,
like ancient dancing show dogs,
given half the chance,
Another wraps his childhood in padded blankets,
so there’s just the occasional muffled thump.
But what of the barbed wire memories–
that scar anew every time they surface?
they can be countered and defused–
we can smooth the sharp edges,
we can roll them between our fingers with a loving caress,
until they become–
a simple truth. No more, no less.