A Post-Trauma Poem: From 9 to 4

* This was posted on Facebook much earlier, but I thought it would be useful to archive this on my blog.

thank you very much
but I need no advice
not because I don’t cherish your friendship
not because what you said is wrong
nor unwise
I just don’t need advice
because what will suffice
for me is a phase
a necessity
for change
a possibility
past the post-trauma
past the atarax
or melatonin
so I can fall
where insomnia takes no insidious hold over me
whereabouts in the darkness I still see
images and figments of the event
tied up
shackled for a reason
ransom maybe
from 9 to 4

that’s why I still can’t fall
because the night creeps on me
because the stillness still overwhelms
I don’t see
nor hear
but the monsters that appear
maybe similar to those that children imagine
hiding in closets and dungeons and halls
only disappear no earlier than 4

and that’s when I fall asleep
when dawn breaks
when mom wakes
when I know it’s safe again to breathe and snore
breathe and gnaw
breathe and gore
no more

though I need no advice
I cherish your thoughts
appreciate your concern
acknowledge your questions
but leave me space
don’t prod
don’t poke
don’t probe
more than what I can reveal
my hands are tied
my lips are sealed

it wears me out
to talk about it
and when I do
talk about it
details are left out
I do suffer from narrative fatique
the kind that psychiatrists say it’s a good thing
because the story has no more hold over you
or over me for that matter

so thank you very much
my kindhearted friends
for giving me space to be on the mend
it’ll take time
but hopefully from 9 to 4
I will fall
soundly asleep once more

(written between 4.45 and 6 am, on 6th June 2013)