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SOME WOUNDS AREN’T SEEN

ANGST

I have some spiritual wounds that hide
Down in the sanctum where my spirit resides,
Suppurating, poisonous, scarring the soul,
Stealing away warmth, radiating glacial cold.

An implacable gloom has invaded my core;
It corrupts the essences of who I was before
Life’s pendulum swung too far into the dark,
And clouded the pleasure, the loving, the spark

That made life a beckoning adventure to explore.
It’s left me locked behind a spectral door
That blocks and frustrates me nearly every day,
Keeps me captive to emotions I can’t hold at bay.

And, yes, I know no one else can really see
The debilitating damage festering inside of me;
They can’t see, and I can’t adequately explain,
These ageless wounds that cause so much pain.

If only someday… somehow… I could find
A panacea to heal this trauma to my mind…

©Copyright June 3, 2010 by Thurman P. Woodfork

INVISIBLE WOUNDS STRUGGLE

Melanie C. Campos ~ MahTame: Invisible Wounds Struggle Some wounds are not visible
To either you and not for me
Even though they are there
Scars that continuously fester

Deep within a person’s soul
Fragility broken repeatedly
The undying, endless want
To stop the pain endlessly

Survival living hid the inside
To bury the horrible memory
Claws of endless struggle
What can numb this ill sensory?

Physical hurts ne’er subside;
No medicine or a bandage
Will comfort the distraught
A searing throb from bondage

Who can nullify what happened?
Who will erase the horribleness?
What form of solitude will occur?
That will comfort the brokenness?

A reliving of events long gone
Sensations override any strength
To cover-up what was buried
Which keeps gnawing in length?

What is it that can truly console?
The tidal sobs are gaining action
Other people may see the tears
But will never know its causation

My scars have no shape or size
But they have emotions full of
Despair, anguish, ‘n’ anxieties
Who can overcome this with love?

Is it possible to overcome the
Years of innocence lost and gone?
The endless battle of inner fight!
When will it be over and done?

They tell me I have a gift to give
How can I accept this when I
Have a hard time accepting it?
Struggle is surviving this life; Why?

©Copyright June 3, 2010 by Melanie C. Campos ~ MahTame

SCARS UNSEEN

Scars unseen
Can surely be felt
For those of us who
Feel like angels in hell
We try to hide
Others try to pry
We try to deny
Sometimes
Others cry
Scars unseen
Hurt like hell
Until one soon bleeds
And the torture
Enthralls
There are those
Who take pride
In their pain
Yet there are more
Who remain silent
Ashamed…

Scars unseen
Surely continue
To breathe pain

©Copyright June 3, 2010 by Danielle N. Calhoun

SOME WOUNDS AREN’T SEEN

Click on graphic to learn more about Mark’s BookThey answer the call
One and all
We need a hero
To defend and go
Some wounds aren’t seen

Leaving port young innocent
To the foreign land their sent
Full of patriotism and honor
Unknowing to the real score
Some wounds aren’t seen

Reality sets in buddies die
‘though save them they try
Mourning and sorrow what’s done
Unknowing KIA the lucky one
Some wounds aren’t seen.

Explosive bursts ripping flesh
Hurriedly stop blood flowing rush
Friend’s alive but torn and maim
Recovery is hospitals aim
Some wounds aren’t seen

Mourning, sorrow, and regret
Alcohol and drugs help forget;
Only cause more trouble moan
Bad conduct shipped home
Some wounds aren’t seen

Left buddies behind more regret
Honor and responsibilities unmet
Pain inside unseen cutting the skin
Attempt to release pain within
Some wounds aren’t seen

Compression pain rise up
“Get it out of head. Man-up”
Drive on duty to the team
Unknown what it will mean
Some wounds aren’t seen.

Twelve years parachute landing
Hundred pounds equipment standing
Hundred pounds weapons humping
Joint discs knees, back compressing
Some wounds aren’t seen.

Doctors with tunnel vision conceal
Never look for cause problem reveal
Duct tape, bailing wire return to front
Pass more drugs allow to return to hunt
Some wounds aren’t seen.

Combat one minute, home in hours
They have superhuman powers
Unable to turn off training
Reactions unable reining
Some wounds aren’t seen

Family don’t understand
Why to church and stand
What was done to hell go
This is all they have to know
Some wounds aren’t seen

Family leaves them behind
Duty unmet in their mind
Immortal spirit has died
To find it they have tried
Some wounds aren’t seen

Endangering thrill seeking
Loveless in their sex taking
Searching for that small way
To prove alive for the day
Some wounds aren’t seen

It’s easier to have visible scar
People recognize see you are
Interior, spiritual, mental injury
Hide, conceal, others don’t worry
Some wounds aren’t seen

©Copyright June 3, 2010 by Mark I. Kirkmeyer

SOME WOUNDS AREN’T SEEN

Everyone thinks I’m so calm-
I’m their sister, her friend, his Mom…

My aunt says I am stoic –
like my Mother…

Truth be told,
I’m just like every other

wounded person,
hiding in plain view –

Smiling on the outside,
frightened on the inside…

Like some of you.

So, the shrink says
I have “secondary PTSD”

Partly from the way my
World War II vet-father raised
my siblings and me –

He wanted to protect us
to the point of making us afraid…

Being unprepared for the world
was the way we were made –

Watch out! Think What If
Make a Plan. Then make Plan B –

I loved my dad
but he made a wreck of me –

And yet, I’ve taken some chances
In life, and love, I’ve sometimes
been “bold” –

I’ve have made bad choices
here and there –
So, Truth be told –

We are all braver
than we thought we were –

Stronger than we think
we are…

Make a Plan
Then make Plan B

Let time slide into healing
those wounds of Hyper-vigilance
and PTSD

We will never be “free”
But we are so much more
than we thought we’d be

After… the War

THE LOOK

The look
Though unintended
Stirs up memories of others
Who using it caused chaos
Drank my energy
Made me feel less than
The one you see before you

Yes I am confident
Skin deep
But look below
And the ground shakes under scrutiny
Close observation
Inspection

The look
Caused me to shiver in my bed
Expecting repercussions
That never came
That were just games
Of a sick mind less than

The words
Dug into my soul
Tried to hold it
Crush it
Control it
But I broke free

But still I hold the look
And in my confidence
I remember
The less than days
The bitter words
The tantrums and the tears
Pointed my way

So bear with me
I am still a work in progress
And feel I never will be finished
No matter how much clay I use
To rebuild myself
Fill in the cracks
Become more than before

For the little girl
Will always cry in the night
When the look is used

UNSEEN SCARS

With a smile on my face
And a good word for all
I seem an ordinary person

But…
Unknown by most
I sit in the shadows
And amidst their silence
I embroider with skill
The sutures
Holding my wounds
Closed
Making them
More attractive

Seems to ease
The scaring
Crisscrossing
My soul…