PTSD And The Soldier

You look so handsome with your sane suit on.
No one can see the rage from here
or imagine the kiss from your simple country lips.

The jury dismisses the broken branches.
A smile and a handshake later
finds you wound up and broken down
in your work room.

Looking for a handle, a clasp,
something to hold onto
without association.

© Sonja J. Johnston 4-27-2008

Stretching Up

Stretching Up

Mender of hearts hear my spurrling arms flutter.
Fill my cup just a little.
Fur warmed

Uncork the bottle genii pearled.
Laugh nose to nose with me.
Find me long handed and shoulder winged.

A few drops light my cup.

-SJP 1986