The past is a stage play all mixed up

Some scenes are transfixed under spotlights

Playing and replaying

The drama and the trauma on endless loop

Others are dim, moving occasionally, sluggishly

They seem nicer but a lot harder to see

And some are in the dark, unknown and unremembered

We are the stage managers of our own mess

Directors and lighting directors

So why is it so hard

To relight this conglomeration

Reposition the spotlights

Restructure the moments

And give due attention to better things

Leaving those we spotlight now

Fading to black

Let the stage hands remove those props

And let the light shine

On the joy, on the peace

On the moments where we love, and are loved.

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