Fractured Healing

He stood at the window of his cabin
his back to her
Lost in his own thoughts
Tortured by his own dark demons
Memories flooded his vision
He stared into the inky blackness
beyond the pane
A clear sky and moonless night
Stars flung from one side of his vision
to the other
He didn’t see them
Nor did he see her
sitting on the bed behind him
Naked and silently crying
Reaching for him
Comfort she longed to give

Yet he saw nothing, heard nothing
the bright flashes and
staccato shots
Shouts of victory and
of agonizing pain
Lost brothers and friends
His vision was red
Was that blood on his hands or
just the heavy sweat of deep memory
Minutes, hours passed
He scarcely noticed his shaking body
Shaking with remorse
with fear, demons, anger, and sadness

He startled as he felt her arms
sliding around from behind
wrapping around him
Her soft body pressed to his
Her lips brushed kisses across his back
Before resting her cheek there
Tears soaking his skin
His body reacted slowly in the moment
as his clouded thoughts switched
from the dark coldness of his past
to the soft future in her light
His rifle was replaced with
the press of her velvety breasts
The desert heat by
her gentle breathing
The screams and cries of suffering became
her moans and sighs in ecstasy
The shots and explosives replaced by
their bodies slapping together
finding release in a most powerful way

And for just one more night
his fractured mind found
peace and wholeness and healing
within her body and
her love and
red-rimmed blue eyes

©️tara caribou – 2018

26 Comments on “Fractured Healing

  1. Wow. Did anyone see that truck? Where are you getting these posts, anyway? I am surprised.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I only meant that it was nicely written. Lots of real surprises coming from your writings. That’s all. Sometimes I am a bit diffuse. Sorry about that.


    • Ah. I see. It was the truck comment that was throwing me off. I appreciate them, though. Whether you were to criticize or to praise. Thanks for reading 😊


  3. That was beautiful. Extremely vivid – you can see the window (the floor-to-ceiling window in a bedroom someday, looking at the backyard and over the hill, to the sprawling silence of the suburbs or the silent graveyard of the cityscape.) The cold of it all – not physical, nothing so grounded, but from within and the thaw. Breathtaking.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks! I’m so glad you could visualize this. It is a study in contrasts. Horror to beauty. Intense cold to the raging inferno. Waking memories to present tears. Thanks for reading and your always-insightful comments.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I read this as narration to an unfolding scene with the paradox of horror to dance. That might just be my crazy, but i love how it’s written, and as mentioned above; vivid (which i love in our work).
    Thank you for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yes! Very good! I wanted the reader to visualize the change, the turning of the mind from one to the other. Intermixed and then necessarily separate. Horror and beauty entwined.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. As a person who is “tortured by my own dark demons” and PTSD, there is an eerie amount of things in this write that I relate to on many levels. I can vividly see the days before the dissolution of something I once held closely, particularly her red-rimmed blue eyes. It’s rare that reading poetry hits me like a hammer, but I’ll admit, this one gets me. I think this is incredible work, Tara. Thank you for sharing. – B

    Liked by 1 person

    • Brian. Thank you for your kind words. I wrote this for my dear friend who also suffers from PTSD and while I can’t pretend to understand everything that you daily live with, I can show love and empathy. Your words touch my heart. This is why I write. Thank you for sharing this.

      Liked by 1 person

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