70 Years of Trauma

 70 years of trauma

a ball of yarn

wrapped so tight

the fibers afraid

so they poked out in spikes

70 years of trauma

a plant grown in the shade

light blocked out

by a plant grown in the shade

perpetual noise and motion

to the echo and locate

a spot in the sun

determined to avoid being shaded out

not realizing their perpetual positioning

burned a hole in the ground

creating a circle around them where

no other plants can grow roots

70 years of trauma

once seen and not heard

they gobble up oxygen like

a photosynthetic thanksgiving feast for one

none left for others to feed their brains

spinning and spinning

yarning and yarning

I find myself yawning and yawning

waiting and waiting

for him to see himself but

70 years of trauma

have made his eyes a danger Doppler

a blind sun-seeking heliocentrist

a sweet smelling brugmansia

only

free to express their fullness in the dark of night

singed by the harshness of reflected light

on their delicate petals

born the sun of wall of rocks

Cold

and

Dark

poorly constructed and Dangerous in the wind

meant to roam like a wildflower

I see the light through a pinhole

in the wall tapestry

now gone but he holds up a

sheet printed with bricks and

blows on it constantly

trying to be his version of the wolk

yet I choose to see the light

and I dim my ears and

turn up my heart's brightest

light and I hope he sees it's 

just sheet now and he can put

it down, know the oxygen is for all

of us

trust the light will not burn him

and express the sweet flower

he has in his heart.