I have been turned
and made good,
but some part of myself resists,
buried in the same grave
each morning.
Not alone but lonely,
living with the ghosts I had killed
in past lives.
Time heals all wounds
and has stepped in
to reverse the silence,
to grant your forgiveness
with parted lips, breathless.
To forgive is a feeling without substance
glittering like love and loss,
like stumbling in on
someone else’s dream.