{"id":5472,"date":"2023-11-27T14:12:09","date_gmt":"2023-11-27T14:12:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.giftfromwithin.org\/?page_id=5472"},"modified":"2023-11-27T14:12:12","modified_gmt":"2023-11-27T14:12:12","slug":"poetry","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.giftfromwithin.org\/ptsd\/poetry\/","title":{"rendered":"Poetry"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

My Brain on PTSD: A Mind Of Its Own?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

You see me as a separate part
As disconnected from your heart
An entity you don’t care for,
An unavailable closed door
It’s true I am distinct from these:
Your toes, your nose, your hair, your knees
And yet I am your body too,
I do not lightly betray you
I know I leave you in a daze
Protect you often with a haze
And make it hard to understand
And certain memories I’ve banned
I know sometimes that you hate me
But I am not your enemy
I can be bruised like any part
Your knee, your elbow, feelings, heart
The fact that my proclivity
Must shade the way you look at me
Can make it hard to make you see
The damage that’s been done to me
I know you’d like to shut me out
To silence me you’d scream and shout
My sanity you sometimes doubt
You see me as a roustabout
I make you moody, make you pout
You’d reach in, pull the bad things out
If you could only access me
But Patti, I must make you see
I’ve always been a part of you
And I am bruised and injured too
Be gentle with yourself, with me
‘Cause, no, I’m not your enemy
Accept that I am battered and
We’ll overcome this, hand in hand (so to speak)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hopefully,
Your Brain On PTSD
\u00a9 7\/3\/12 Patty Pott<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Victim or Survivor?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Victim or survivor,
The question dares to ask;
And so I try to answer it
With frigid tales from the past.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Can I remember all the facts?
Especially the ones that love to come back?
Do I dare recount details,
The ones that pierce sharp as nails?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And how does one get past the numb
That kept us all so very dumb.
The numb that became the soothing balm
That brought about the deepest calm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There is a tune survivor’s sing
Much like your favorite church hymns;
It blends the sorrow and the pain
And brings us hope with each refrain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So therein lies the question,
The one I need to mention.
Can one fault the victim
Who found in pain her rhythm?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Katrina Laura Klein Masterson
PTSD<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Patches soaked, running red;
Is it all in my head?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dripping, seeping, oozing,
Weeping; gushing, leaking,
Always seeking . . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Flooding though the pores of life,
Staining all the walks of life!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Katrina Laura Klein Masterson<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Imagination has been a most faithful friend
protecting me when I was afraid as early as I can remember.
“Come” it says “play with me when it’s ugly outside your eyes.
Inside your mind is beauty, wonder, splendor, adventure.
If you’re angry have a sword fight, make your adversary walk the plank.
Say whatever you want without discretion until it disappears.
A drum roll…
an outrageous adventure begins.
Taste it…smell it…live it…until you’re smiling…until you’re finished feeling bad. Until it’s safe outside your eyes”.

Thayra Vane<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Erin<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Blue Sea<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fishermen cast lines with likely hopes.
Children contented grasp their seashells treasured,
Pearls are made from oysters’ disturbance,
Gulls feed on what seas have rejected.
Blue sea, blue sea, what you shoring up for me?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Into the sea my woes are strewn,
Thunderous waves silence them.
Searchlights shine upon what drifts,
I set my gaze for internal rest.
Blues sea, blue sea, what you shoring up for me?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Seashells crushed by drifter’s feet,
Scattered where sea and shoreline meet.
I heard your cries through ocean’s roar,
Welling upon seas’ darkened floor.
‘Tis no tumult when pounding waves,
Rush the shore with seeming rage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I am the calm you seek at sea,
My sand is porous, bubbles and breathes,
Your sighs seep sweetly; and I do hear
Sieving calm and peace to shore,
Grace engulfs loves fragile soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A Song About PTSD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A song about PTSD,
the beast that always walks with me.
A tune sung in a different key
that is, to most, a mystery.
A haunting, hurtful melody,
of ever-present memory
that will not ever set me free.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A song no one wants to access,
because it sounds like such a mess.
It’s melody bespeaks distress;
It’s like a chant of loneliness.
I’ve found its theme is meaningless;
It’s cadence never does progress.
And its refrain’s meant to oppress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A song of terror in the night
and listening to my parents fight;
with days lived in a state of fright.
Of knowing no hope was in sight
’cause even love can’t make it right.
I know\u2026I loved with all my might
and still he treated me with spite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A song that must be sung solo
because only myself can know
the words, the music and the flow
which changed, as needed, as I’d grow.
The parts sung fast, the parts sung slow,
The parts so dark, the parts that glow,
the parts I wish I could let go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A sung about PTSD
The beast that always walks with me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a92011 Patti Pott
My World View with a Plea<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The world is full of scary things and it can hurt like hell;
The world is full of healing and can also make you well.
The earth is full of trauma and can cause you such distress;
The earth holds many peaceful settings that can truly bless.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Full of spiders hanging on their dewy webs each morning;
Bugs with stingers buzzing in your face without a warning;
Snakes that wiggle in your path when you are just relaxing,
Startling you, invading you, and it can be quite taxing!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Full of misty mornings, when the world is first awake,
Filling up your heart as that first sip of jo you take.
Offering gentle breezes that can cause your chimes to tinkle;
Clear cold winter nights when every star so bright will twinkle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Life is full of triggers that can come at any time,
Full of angry predators who live their lives of crime;
And of loving people who can make you feel sublime
Life is very strange indeed, a puzzling paradigm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Life can bring abandonment, a family absentee,
Or can bring a stranger who’ll invite you in for tea.
Life can turn upon a dime, it changes constantly
Moving tick by tick when you live with PTSD.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Life is full of danger, full of wonder, it’s bizarre!
Living in this world is what it is, it’s where we are;
Wishing we were somewhere else, and here our Avatar,
But we take it as it comes ’cause that’s just who we are.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Living with PTSD means often we are stressed.
Sometimes we lay down to sleep in peace and we can rest.
Sometimes face the morning with a heart that feels like stone.
Sometimes with someone who cares, and sometimes all alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hopefully by now you see it’s a dichotomy,
Life is never certain, living with PTSD.
Life is unpredictable, if anything, it’s weird!
One day I’ll be confident, the next day all is feared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If you love me, understand that safety’s an illusion.
Hold me when I’m crying, though your mind’s filled with confusion.
See that I have value, see the person I can be.
See that I am more than what somebody did to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Patti Pott
\u00a9 2011
A Trip to Town<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A trip to town, so much to see,
and many of them trigger me.
Bikini-clad, a firm young girl
reminds me of insults he’d hurl.
“You’re feeling thick, have you gained weight?”
(Inside it bubbles up\u2026self-hate).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’m asked to drive and start to shake,
Because I might make some mistake.
“You’re too close to the middle line.
Did you not see that caution sign?”
It’s true, the man beside of me
is not that man, won’t chastise me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’m with a man who’s safe at last
but I’m not here, I’m in the past.
And being asked to drive to town
just somehow turns me upside down.
Try to relax, breathe deep and slow
and maybe my panic won’t show.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It doesn’t help, and with each mile
I’m back with him and I can’t smile.
My heart is pounding painfully.
I’m breathing fast. What’s wrong with me?
I’m safe, by now I ought to know
but somehow I can’t let it go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And there’s no way of predicting
or stopping this from happening.
There are no ways of knowing how,
or why or when it hits, like now.
Was it a dream I had last night,
A song I heard, familiar sight?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My husband reaches tenderly
and brings me back by touching me.
I jump and that makes him look sad,
And then another look; he’s mad
but not at me, oh no, at him
who made my view of life so dim.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ashamed, I long to numb this pain,
stay in the now, from tears abstain.
Although I know he always sees
when I’m distressed or ill at ease.
And so goes on the life that’s me,
a life lived with PTSD.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a9 2011 Patti Pott<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was not you who. . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

broke me into jagged pieces<\/p>\n\n\n\n

taught me endless shame<\/p>\n\n\n\n

seizes me in the shadows, suspending me in uncontrollable fear<\/p>\n\n\n\n

draws me from God to evil desperation<\/p>\n\n\n\n

drains all color from my existence<\/p>\n\n\n\n

made me view death as a gift<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It is you who. . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

holds me when I am too weak to stand<\/p>\n\n\n\n

listens to my broken cries of uncertainty<\/p>\n\n\n\n

provides assurance to my quivering hands, with your gentle touch<\/p>\n\n\n\n

gives me hope when I am driven to darkness<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How sorry I am that it is you that suffers with me, because it was not you who raped my soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My heart is eternally grateful that you have chosen to stand by me in my struggles. What a gift of love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

FL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Past (Home) Present<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A trip to town, so much to see.
So many things to trigger me.
Bikini-clad, a firm young girl
reminds me of insults he’d hurl.
“You feel so thick, you’ve gained some weight”
(inside it bubbles up\u2026self-hate).
I’m asked to drive, I start to shake,
concerned I’ll just make some mistake.
“You’re too close to the middle line.
Did you not see that caution sign?”
I’m with a man who’s safe at last
but I’m not here, I’m in the past.
My husband reaches tenderly
and brings me back by touching me.
Ashamed, I long to numb this pain
and hide from fears I cannot name.
At home I know there’s help in store
behind my little office door.
I log on and pour out my heart
and, once again, feel healing start.
A place that feels like home to me
with those who have PTSD.
Gift from Within gives me a way
to know, somehow, I’ll be okay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Patti Pott
3-17-11
THE SILENT CRY.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Flo<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The bells are silent in Urakami.
Still, a cry pierces the night.
I cry, she cries, all cry together.
For children, for home, for life, for peace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A woman, a mother, a wife;
As longs as she cries – she remains
A victim.
No one hears – the silent cry.
I cry, she cries, all cry together.
For children, for home, for life, for peace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She tries, she tires ?
And then she shouts – she becomes
A survivor.
Someone hears – silent no more!
She smiles?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She laughs, with children and home and life.
And peace.
Still she prays, for songs unsung and broken dreams.
Grant us peace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dedicated to Victims and Survivors of Domestic Violence in Japan and Nigeria.
And to all who work tirelessly to understand and support them.
Pam Family Photo
WHY WOULD I CHOOSE LIFE?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had brothers and a sister yet I was alone
I was trapped in the middle with a father of my own
He was my father with my existence known
But without my mother his daughter was thrown
By the time I was 16 I was out on my own
When I turned 17 to him I was flown
There I gave birth to a daughter of my own
But a year later again I was thrown
My daughter he claimed as his own
Yet they said he died with no children of his own<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was 21 with a daughter and 2 sons
I wanted another daughter and God gave me one
She was my 4th and he took that one
Then gave me 2 more sons
The State took 4 and left me with one
Life was no longer fun<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I died when I was 23
When they ripped my children away from me
I was free
But no longer me<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One son I had left but I was lost
Having him, how much would it cost?
I had died and he grew up lost
And it was his children that it would cost<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pamela R<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Learned<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By Ripley<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Smaller than a breadbox<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But bigger than a thimble.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My detention started without end<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the cellar of God’s temple.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Blinded by the dark pitch<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Held tightly to the corner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sharing the darkness with the rats<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I learned to be a mourner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Choice of binds or choice of freedom<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A promise to remove the tether<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But only if I could finally learn<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To yield to whips of leather.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Now child, save up your strength,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With this water and crust of bread.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Your next lesson will come real soon<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And your sins will finally be shed.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You will sit when I say sit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You will kneel when I say kneel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Don’t make a sound or cry out loud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’ll give you a reason to feel.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Children are to be seen<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And never, ever be heard.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I learned this very early on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I learned to be a bird.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now when the demons come down,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They come to teach me more<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the bird has flown so far away<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And she’s left behind their lore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Springtime<\/p>\n\n\n\n

arriving around the corner<\/p>\n\n\n\n

flowers bursting forth<\/p>\n\n\n\n

as birds chirp, returning home<\/p>\n\n\n\n

with the melting snow,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

spring’s corner is as usual<\/p>\n\n\n\n

in the universal garden<\/p>\n\n\n\n

delighting us all,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

a symphony of flowers<\/p>\n\n\n\n

dancing in the springtime breeze,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

a gentle reminder<\/p>\n\n\n\n

of our own beauty within<\/p>\n\n\n\n

as winter says goodbye,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

we shed our cocoon<\/p>\n\n\n\n

overcome with spring fever<\/p>\n\n\n\n

and abundance of love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pam M.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He Came To Me<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Lord came to me last night
in a vivid dream.
“Come, I want to show you
some things you’ve never seen.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Take my hand and
do not be scared,
I am going to show you how
I have always been there.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We rose up through the clouds
and flew back in time.
I saw a very sad young girl
and I knew this life was mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I heard every scream
of your wretched agony,
every tear that you cried
fell down on me.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Every blow that you took
I felt the pain.
Every time you were beaten,
I suffered the same.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I could not stop
the evil of mans heart,
but I walked through it all
from the very start.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“As you endured evil
for so many years,
You often cried out to me<\/p>\n\n\n\n