A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

Sitting in the park
under stars
(but we can’t see them
hidden behind clouds)
burning loud
but we can’t hear them.
Trying now to turn
into words
my thoughts and feelings.
Shattered on the ground
but these sounds
sound like healing,
But healing is not
what I thought
(warm and gentle)
Healing tears
at old scars
(once more painful)