Three Years After The Book

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.