American PTSD

I curl up like a ball in my bunk

sirens and shots resonate outside

I pull the covers over my head

screams and laughter fill the air

I reach out for a familiar warmth

helicopter blades swish above me

I feel a body lean closer to me

a hand takes mine and gives it a kiss

I’m scared

She says, “don’t worry.”

I’d never thought I’d feel like this back home

“It’s the 4th of July honey, they’re just celebrating.”

Author's Note

Written: 10/4/10