never from the war’s front lines
only further into the recess of your mind
and you wonder if suicide is perhaps the best
way for you to surrender to your pain
for the families of the men you had to kill
and the child who’s life you had to end
as the sunlight struck the barrel of his gun
he thought it was the right way to have some fun
then his blood soaked into the sand
while his father wept along with you
your men were in clear and present danger
such is the life of an army ranger
that sometimes this is how it goes
while you protected your team
telling you they understand
but you’re lost inside your mind like a darkened cave
and the men you helped live another day
the ones you comforted at night
you held their hands and told them to hang on
they’d be with their families before too long
to show their respect
but you continue to deflect
because it’s easier to hear their sorrow
than try to look ahead to your tomorrow
you tried to say I can take no more
but God’s not ready for you yet
the person you were before this carried shame
while you continue to feel at blame
now he resides in all your dreams
when you cry out into the night
but for one you desire
so you can escape the hell fire
over your grave
your wife, your kids, and all that you gave
This poem is dedicated to my nephew. He did two tours of duty before the PTSD got it's claws in him and caused three suicide attempts in less than a year. The last was this week. If you're the praying sort, please pray for him and for all of us.
|from where else? Bing|
Here's the book I recommended:
- First, I take my rockin’ counselor’s, advice. I allow myself to feel the trigger without trying to figure out the cause. Without trying to self analyze it to pieces because that in itself is taxing.
- Next, I take deep breaths from the gut. Breath in, breath out. Slowly, to calm myself.
- My affirmation cards.
- Guided imagery – a great tool that I use for Migraines too. I imagine myself on the beach. I feel the sand, smell the ocean, hear the seagulls, feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, the sand in between my toes, slipping through my fingers. I transport myself there because it’s my favorite place in all the land. My calming place.
- I read Footprints – it’s my favorite writing and I have it hanging in my bathroom – don’t judge, it’s where I usually end up when I’m crying. =)
- I look at myself in the mirror and tell myself I am strong, I can handle this.
- I pray. A lot.
- I drive to my favorite spots with a pen and paper and vent out my rage then shred it and toss it in a garbage can somewhere on the drive home.
- I blog, although now I try to avoid blogging while to upset because I end up saying things like I’m getting a divorce!!! And then change my mind and to delete the post
- I take an Epsom salt bath with lavender bubbles.
The thoughts became so ugly and vile I found myself full of resentment for what he had done. I was repulsed just lying there next to him. I finally got up from the bed and went into the bedroom and hoped and prayed for sleep. It didn't come for a long while. I ended up lying there and the mind movies took over. Again, something I hadn't dealt with in so long aside for some flare ups when we are being intimate. I imagined him in the dressing room of the department store with his skanky whore going down on him; flashed to him showering with his co-worker; another mind movie of another woman on her knees....cycling these blasted mind movies over and over again. I wanted to post on here but was afraid the post would be so full of hatred and be so vile....I'd regret posting it.