Sharing your pain is the cure for a great deal of pain
Scars that turn into melodies; wounds into stories
Gaping holes into beautiful forests, and broken hands
Into hearts that cradle your soul

Sharing your pain and watching others perceive it
Is the balm to a lot of misery, a promise that
No matter what, you’re not alone
And there are people wandering those forests with you
Holding your heart in their careful hands

it seems
the blue lights
drift ghostly
past the windows
more often
these days
each occasion
bringing with it
a momentary
fleeting interest
in where
the drama is
currently residing
at who's pillow
might be
tear-stained
through the night
at who's door
fear and anxiety
are being permitted
to step inside
at who's house
has become
a closed film set
waiting to be
stripped of content
until only
walls doors windows
and memories
remain
but
as commercials end
attention returns
once more
to a stronger
more constant
source of
blue light
and all present
are thankful that
at least
the banshees
that wailing of sirens
has been silenced
in time