Ptsd
The battlefield within
a swirling whirlpool of delayed rage
comes at last for
the inner child voice
screaming .... why?
Why soul murderer
father, mother, uncle, brother
priest, doctor, three-piece suit
creeper incest keeper
tide breaker...
Mind curtain masks
the unsettled
soul-body certain of sound
that trigger flows
in the dark.
Pictures swirling syphon
through a membrane
of synapses power
deafening thoughts
that scatter waves.
Breathe,
breathe the wave
memory-locked baggage
traveling from its horror cave
into tomorrows hope
of healing.
PTSD ...
oh how sweet silent
will the Silence of Heaven be,
and will I know it
when I get there?
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