Robin Amy Bass


Ghost in the attic,
Noise in the dark;
When you go missing
It tears me apart.

Your spirit, it haunts me
Though you’re out of view.
My feelings, all jumbled,
Still tumble and spew.

Spook in the basement,
I hear a strange noise.
You are still AWOL
Just out with the boys?

I feel your presence
At break of the day.
Feel your reluctance
You just stay away.
Standing beside me,
you’re still MIA.

Ghoul in the backyard,
The wind starts to blow,
And I’m still searching.
Just where do you go?

Telling myself that
Things are all right;
Chilled to the bone
My sixth sense I fight.
Do you think I could
come with you tonight?

Ghost in the attic,
Noise in my head.
I hear the static
Impulse of dread.

Try to explain it,
Scared to ask why.
I can’t ignore it
I don’t want to lie.

Finally you surface,
I try to be bright.
Try to disguise,
How you gave me a fright.

Trying to fix it
I make matters worse.
Spirits keep haunting.
As if it’s a curse.

Ghost in the attic;
Pain in my heart.
When you are hurting.
It tears me apart.

Author’s Note: This is an older poem that I wrote when Tim had a PTSD episode. At that time, I really didn’t know what it was.

Quite frankly, I thought he was brooding. I didn’t realize that part of him – maybe all? – goes missing. He hides it as best he can, by not letting me come over. Now, when he does let me stay, he is still apt to disappear. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. When I was a little girl, I used to hear noises coming from our attic. I lived in a big creaky Tudor house. And the noises would scare me silly.

That’s what I’m reminded of when Tim wakes up in the middle of the night.