never doubt the power of post traumatic stress.
i have to get up in the morning
when the heater kicks on,
and open a door or window for air.
ever since that time 20 years ago,
when we both almost died
from carbon monoxide–
the heater kicking on is this symbol of death,
and i must arise;
fight the panic welling up in my throat;
abandon sleep and call it morning.
taking big gasps…no way to not remember the
cracks in a furnace that were
done by someone to hurt both of us.
who was the murderer? failed murderer?
like a trap
lying in wait to spring…i can’t forget
how months of poisoning were months of pain.
it all falls on my heart and body again,
with no way to stay comfortable in sleep…no!
if you want to live! arise … arise!
if you want her to live…….arise!
every animal must fight for its life,
but i do so doubly on these mornings.
gasping for reality,
i kiss the anger deep and smooth and going on forever;
and so i begin
a new day; thoroughly tainted by the old.
yes, post traumatic stress exists. the only thing i can tell you
is that some events never end.