Will there ever be a day,
when I can grab onto a hand
and run barefooted across the sand.
Without a care in the world,
laughing deeply from my belly,
not just because its what I should do?

Will there ever be a day,
where I can feel the wind ruffling thru my hair,
and I can twirl and dance without a care,
and no sharp pain of grief will catch,
suddenly across my chest?

Will there ever be a day,
when I wake in the morning
and stretch and yawn and feel
the sun shining on my face
without having to self-soothe
and remind myself that now its all safe?

Why cant the past just go away?!

Even now as I sit at the table
the urge comes tickling and nudging -
crawl under the table, hide away;
even though there is no one around
and not even a sound,
of footsteps, or keys, or doors unlocking.