8 – Trauma Theory

From the fascia that constricts —
wants my body fetal some days —
I cannot extract the kamikaze pilot,
tweeze him from his destructive path
save those who drowned
or the family of survivors
who struggle, still, some days,
to keep their heads above water.

I cannot extract the boy in the photo
unawares and smiling
while sea battles raged
and mothers wept
eyes blind to the
the hard fist of the drunk
who pounded on doors
and broke happy spirits.

Some things float, you see,
carry on despite the damage.

 

Poem ©2023, Jen Payne. Photo of her father, taken 1945, around the time his father was considered missing in action. He was aboard the destroyer U.S.S. Twiggs, just offshore from Okinawa when it was torpedoed then hit by a suicide bomber. #NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Month. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.