Triggers

Thank you to Ann for sending us this poem about triggers. Anything can be a trigger, and it can be hard to navigate the world knowing you might be painfully triggered.

You can be “alright”,

Actually “fine”,

I mean

Actually present,

Actually there,

Do I dare

to say

“OK”?…….

It hits,

You’re gun shot

that quick!

The needles stick,

The walls hit

That slick!

The fog descends,

Under the blanket

You wrestle to regain

Pain –

Control

From bleeding out

Your heart.

It’s futile,

You’re immobile

You choke and splutter

Stutter, mutter, it

Traps you,

Flaps you.

Try in vain

To regain

“You”,

Without this pain.

Then, after time,

Shaft of light,

A branch,

A twig,

A stepping stone

To somewhere bright.

A foothold

Up towards the light.

A hand to grab

A tool to stab

The bastard trigger

Dead.

Then, breathless,

Plaster on,

Carry on,

You struggle back

to being “You”             ,

but know the score,

the gunshot bore,

the gaping hole,

Scarred but

Double hard,

You’ll know it next time,

More control,

Smaller hole

In your head.

In your heart

You start

Again

To fit the mould.

Halt the cold,

The ice –

incise

Shard,

Steely hard

Knife

That stabs

Your life.

You have to beat it,

Melt it out,

Burn the sucker

Have no doubt.

Regain control,

Ignore the blip

You mustn’t

ever let

“You” slip.