Living with PTSD is like riding a horse, feeling the crisp breeze, the exhilaration of the gallop, the rhythm of the horse's hooves, and the synchronicity between the rider and horse.  The goodness of life captured in the view over fields and valleys, the smell of grass and flowers, and the beauty of the sunset on the horizon.  

And out of nowhere the trigger knocks me off of the horse.  Just before I black out I see the bottom side of the horse, and his powerful hooves, right over my head.  And then there I am, on my back, smelling dirt and manure, and not knowing at all where I am, or how it is that I came to be there.  Panicking and alone, the sound of horses far away.  This can be made more confusing when someone next to me blames me for falling, as if I have fallen on purpose.  This is what it feels like.  

My horse came back today, and I'm not astride yet, but he's standing here warming me, waiting for me to climb back up, nuzzling me with his warm, wet breath, and communicating that the view is great, the air is crisp, and the rhythm of the ride awaits.

pick a subject
take a dip
pack a line
where it fits

clever, playful
ever bold
as you dabble
in the fold

move it, use it
shake the mat
make a list
slap the facts

tell it, sell it
mark it sold
looky, looky
it's a poem

In crazy times these days I find
A word I often use
When forced on me these sufferings
In todays to-do's

So don your masks and your name tags
In this new faze of meet and greet
The word in hand if need be said
...Seriously?!

With no simple rhyme nor heart-felt reason
To all that's going on
My guess is it's just in keeping
With this societal breakdown

When common sense loses its essence
And everything smells fishy
I've said it before and I'll say it again
...Seriously?!

What comes out of people's mouths
These days is quite insane
Not taking time out to think about
The way they are behaving

I've about had enough to the point of done
Someone please stick a fork in me
Have you not heard it's all absurd
...Seriously?!

Fishing around inside
for a poem tonight
looking for some something
that hotly wants it's write

It is dimmer as if
my inner basement light
and galloping goblins
after that two day fight

Are just plain ol' tuckered
Muscles cramped 'n tight
Does hitting a brick wall
Mean the end is in site




Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis