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?
Copyright © Sue Mason | Year Posted 2007
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment