Why go back
when you can move forward?
I face this question
each day I breathe.
It's not always so easy
to answer.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
Keeps me looking back
to my past
behind my shoulder.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
Usually associated
with our war heroes.
The ones who can't leave
the battlefield behind.
I am not one of them.
I am just
an anxious
a depressed
in pain
person.
But I can't help
that I have it.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
My battlefield
was the school,
the classrooms,
the playground.
The babysitter,
the dark closets,
the dark rooms,
the basement.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
The anxiety
the migraines
the depression
the fibro
no sleep.
All lead back
to square one.
The abuse
by my peers
by my teachers
by my babysitter.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
Four easy letters
Four simple words
Lifetime in pain
from those simple things
from those not so simple things.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder.

Spoke to a near and dear friend today who relayed a story to me, asked me to write something about it, then requested I shared it. Thanks to all of you who do what you must.

I was feeling most light
To start this day
But now I confess
That has gone away


I will reveal things
Some consider dark
And be very frank
Though you may find it stark

I have hunted and killed
The most elusive of prey
Hoping to never re-visit
That final day

And though I bury the memory
It seems to rise from the dead
Once again though as yesterday
Living in my head

The last look on his face
The last living soul to see
The confusion and surrender
His life showed unto me

Not like I had a choice
It was his life or mine
Only one of us would ever see
Once again the sunshine

One of us or another
Would ever again know life
That's how it is
At the point of a knife

One life is ended
Another goes on
Only one of us would see
Another dawn

You call it PTSD
I call it life
Living to tell the story
At the tip of the knife.

War kills
not just bodies
but souls
while in its wake
leaving hearts emptied
with holes

The spirit of men
ruined by trauma
it's clear
they look to tomorrow
and tremble
from fear

For what it will bring
these men
never know
often like Jekyll
and Hyde
which one will now show

War
is pure hell
for all that it touches
and there's no hiding it
with a million
airbrushes

Turn the corner
Hand tenses
Looking down the iron sights I see an object fall
"Tango down" I call over the radio
what was his name? Tango, Threat, Terrorist, doesn't matter.
Explosion
Mud brick wall vaporized into dust
Keep going
Out of breathe
Keep going
Hand tenses
"Tango down"
Does it have kids? A Family? Threat eliminated
Round the corner
Hand tenses
"Three tangos on west building roof top"
Bullets from my brothers **** by my helmet
Return fire
"Take Cover!"
Sweat drenched face fogs up my goggles
Explosion
Brick pieces pummel my back
Ears ringing, faintly hearing
"Alpha down, Medic!"
Blurred vision, equilibrium thrown off
Raise my rifle
Hand tenses
Silhouette falls
"Medic!" heard faintly
Hand tenses
"Are you okay?" sounds distant
Hand tenses
"babe?" getting louder
Hand tenses

Hand tenses

Wake up
Sheets heavy with sweat
"Babe, are you ok?"
Throwing the blankets I jump back to the edge of the bed
Her frightened face
I've seen before
I look down
Hands tense
Same look, no tangos
No threats
Just Ghosts