What Ifs Poem by C H Sund

Don’t talk to me of yesteryears, of
what “ifs” and should have “beens.”
I am tiring of this guessing.

Does it make you feel better,
berating yourself for “if only I had? ”
Does this confession cleanse the soul?

You have the courage to stand there,
walk today into tomorrow’s light,
yet this shadow seems to grow.

Sadly now you have me thinking of
“if” you are… what “iffing” me,
and now my shadow grows…

Silently I bite my tongue;
it’s been swollen many times
and listen once again to “if.”

In earlier times I would have tried
to make everything right, to agree,
but that just made them worse.

So now, I listen while you
yesteryear once again and again
and my stomach churns.

I look for escape…
some long overdue task to do, some out…
Many times you just follow.

Ironically now, I am starting
to think about yesteryears myself
and it still includes you.