Three years.
Different chair,
But same room.
Three years
Since it happened.
Different room,
Same class.
Same shared wall.
Three years
Since my first flashback—
My first time
Triggered by something
As simple and
As powerful
As a book.
The Absolutely True Diary
Of a Part-Time Indian.
A boy
Whose family struggles
With money—
A boy who struggles
With harassment.
I can’t exist
Within these walls
Without the memory
Of that book
Of the that test
In the department office.
One of my worst days.
But you see,
That book
May have saved me.
Without a diagnosis
Of PTSD,
Things could have been
Worse off
For me.
Now
I can breathe
When I think
About that book.
Now
I can function
When I see
That person.
Now
That barricade
Is broken down.
Now
I can manage
My way over.
