Past is past

The meditative looking out
of the window has only
the absent sparrows chirping.
A cold wind of past cuts
across the barricades
built over the years.
Past is past you wonder
taking the sun in the balcony.
But it presents itself as present
in the garb of relevance.
You might be lured into
mending fences with it.
And that's a definitive trap.
An apparition we could tolerate
than a full fledged fleshling
breathing and living around us.
And luckily,
an audience with the past
to make peace
to be absolved for a part of you
is a rarity that is mostly denied.