Old Photos

Old Photos

 When I see old photos of us,

Young, vibrant, busy, with babies.

Then, I think I should feel more

Affection or Regret?  Sorrow or loss?

Yet I do not.

There is still a protective numbness

Encasing my heart and mind

Keeping the pain at bay-

Denying that I was wounded.

Yet, I was.

I look at a younger you,

When you smiled (others were present.)

Game face, I always thought it. 

Fooling families and friends who thought we were okay.

Yet, we were not.

I see the pictures of a stronger you,

Hear the voice that ridiculed and killed simple pleasures.

Ears still shrink from the name calling.  Mean words,

Uttered to belittle shy happiness and besmirch fledgling trust.

Yes, they did.

I know that you failed again in your third attempt.  I liked your next wife. 

She was nice, and was happy.  Like me...At first,

She, too, is happier now, and her child only slightly wounded.

Now that you're alone once again.

Yes, you are.

Have you learned anything yet?

I hope, someday, you do.

Then perhaps you can like someone else. 

Maybe even love.

Yes, you might even learn that.

All things are possible.

Wilka, 2007