Day 10 of September, “Year Eleven” (How can I grieve if I cannot cry?)

Day 10 of September, “Year Eleven”
The Hope Within the Storm Collection

Of the PTSD Poetry Project 2016



Day 21 of 22



“Year Eleven”

(How can I grieve if I cannot cry?)


I lean back

Looking at the sky

Through the moon window

Of my vehicle

The clouds are chasing each other

All at different paces

Darker clouds move in quickly

Lightening flares

Brightening up the sky

I watch silently

As I sit in a parking lot

My appointment finished long minutes before

I look and wonder

At the show of electric power in the sky

I look and wonder

Is this what is happening inside my brain

Is this what healing looks like?

This flash filled moment

As a new connection happens

Bypassing all the damage

I’ve begun letting go

Of things which held me back

From healing

I draw

No longer in secret

I draw and allow both hands

To do the work

I become lost in these moments

Tears running down my face

A testimony to emotions

Far out of reach

Except at these intimate moments

When both hands create

My brain is stimulated

By both hands working together

By both hands working separately

Waves of something I cannot name

Pass over me briefly

Oh so briefly

I want to know the name of this wave

I want to know the name of that wave

Before it’s out of reach again

But with the fluidity of water

It slips away

Before I can call it by name

My brain kicks back

Staying in the groove

This wearying groove

Called ‘happy’

I cannot feel anything

Except the ‘nary a care’ attitude

Everything flows over my body

And far far away

If I can name it

Maybe I can claim it

Isn’t that how it could work?

Maybe

Just maybe

Someday

So I draw

As tears pour out of my eyes

As snot runs down my upper lip

Out of my nose

I do not know why

Something has connected

Yet I do not know it’s name

Maybe

Just maybe someday

It will pour over

It will be set free

The way I know they are supposed to be

Then maybe

Just maybe

I can begin to cry

And know the reason why



***

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