Friday, September 23, 2011

thoughts on PTSD

Stored away days
I walked barefoot in my childhood,
A longing to feel the wet sand,
As they squished under my heels,
A child I was -  then, youth bulged my seams,
My alertness, my thoughts,
All condensed to one-,ME,
Life condensed to waste at its edges,
Yet I forget life’s many nuances,
Some I wish to push into oblivion,
Yet they pursue me ceaseless,
Now as I read, molecules of the mind,
I glance ,stare even , to past, future,
All entwined in  today…
Attempt to find an overall scheme to life,
Sigh at what was laid to waste,
Just to appease some wrathful demi-god,
Obliged demi-gods or demons; all to survive…
Tomorrow, I leave again,
To gather up some dusty memories, as I lunch with friends,
All to enliven a youth again, though briefly,
As my alerting networks awaken in memories,…
A gladness, a lightness in my steps, for stored away days
But beneath them lie yet some—
They poke their brazen tendrils in nightmares,
In startles grown to stiffness,
Yes, they poke through ,even so far removed,
At times to lay heavy as a mantle again.

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