Deborah Bogen: Post-Traumatic Stress Ghazal

Fear fades, but the stain is set, remembered

in odd neuron groups, each vignette remembered.

The shadow of the bridge that floated on the water,

the broken boy half-drowned, a debt remembered.

Memory taunts me, uninvited, floods my mind with

my mistakes, then other threats remembered.

A whiffled surface glory-lit when gusts split clouds,

gold light, a pink rosette remembered.

Waking, a brief amnesia’s treasured until thought

ignites — the world’s reset, remembered.

The news, the immigrants and astronauts all

clamor, noise and need, a harsh duet remembered.

I lean on day’s routine, first coffee, then the desk,

the work I might forget — remembered.

Deborah, don’t give up the night-song of your

dream, the music real, a clarinet remembered.

—

Copyright 2016 Deborah Bogen