I heard them say that poetry heals

So I heard them say
That poetry heals,
But then again
I hear them say many things.
I’ve heard it said
The you pour out your heart out
When you write.
But my heart is still here.
There’s nothing but words.
Words plague my mind
And dance in my eyes.
They whisper in my ear
Like a ghost,
Or a chilled wind
Over my shoulder.
So they say these words
Are magic, thrumming, sweet,
Music to the soul.
But my soul is still here.
It is not stirred.
I hear them say
That poetry heals.
But look, I wrote a poem,
And the pain is still here.

By Catherine Joy