Winter Soldier

So this morning and the past couple of days, I’ve been having a hard time with my PTS (Post Traumatic Stress). This morning was very dark for me. When It gets dark and I remember to, I write. This is what I wrote this morning. I don’t know if its a poem, a short story, or something else! All I know is its an expression of my heart. Read this through your own lens. The best part about art is you get to take what you need to take out of it! Thanks to my brother Wes for inspiring the title!

Winter Soldier:

I’m in the woods
Bleak December.
Life forces slowed leaving shells of past remembered.
Remnants remind me of the reality,
Fossils of hope.

Take a step.

New ice cracks, not strong enough yet.
But strong enough to make me slip.
To much pressure and I fall or crack.
No signs of life here, but if I close me eyes,

I see it.

Moments of darkness bring a strange peace.
Can I stay asleep?
Wind swept trees, the rustle of fallen leaves,
Twigs fight branches on neighboring trees.

Its all for me to see.

Maybe theres a sunrise.
Sleepy eyes show me ugliness
Is all to be seen, obscuring reality.
Pin point experiences deny the greater.

Whats above the trees?

Looking up, searching, I stumble.
Thats what you get for looking up it seems.
Since I’m here again, Better I go to sleep bleeding.
Chasing peace in false reverie.

Awake, in pain.

Staring at the sky that put me here.
Curse you hope, sower of regret! It’s your fault!
This wasteland, desolate and cold! Alone in winter!
I want to leave, But I live here not by choice.

Who would choose this?

I fought the hardest I’ve ever fought to get here.
A bird chirps. I wish it would shut up.
Silence strangles me yet noise enrages me.
I walk the line between life and death

My compass is broken

I weave in and out, side to side.
Emotions my guide
They lie.
Sky brightens, pain lessens.

I miss the green leaves.

I understood purpose then.
Now purpose seems dead.
Come back to life I scream
Hoping the trees hear me.

They don’t.

I know these things can’t be forced,
But I try.
Desperate for change
Sun leaks through the branches and blinds me.

Eyes blurred.

The once twisted branches blend together.
One branch ends, another begins.
Seamless, smooth.
Once gnarled now straight, once broken now graceful.

The darkness floods with light.

I close my eyes and fight it and hide.
Once opened, the ugliness returns.
I am justified.
I am right.

This land is barren.

Ugly,
Dead,
This is Hell.
Bitter cold.

Better to sleep.

I lay under a tree. I see it.
Ugly, alone. Trunk twisted from years of struggle.
Branches scattered around.
Winds of trial knocking them down.

They weren’t strong.

The top of the tree a thicket of confusion.
A maze of desperation.
Each limb fighting against itself searching for survival.
Independently reaching for the sky.

Climb the tree.

Lower branches make sturdy steps.
My feet give them purpose long since dead.
The bark on my hands, rough, strong.
Protected, we are connected.

I feel it.

Pushing through the branches
I’m scratched, slapped, scrapped by the sticks.
Stinging pain, surging rage.
Climb down! Go back to sleep!What do you hope to see?

I reach.

Take the pain.
I don’t know why, but I must find the purpose of the branches fight.
I burst through the canopy, gasping for air.
Eyes closed, chest heaving, making room for breathing.
The crisp air is refreshing.

I open my eyes.

The tops of the trees join together.
Like frozen waves in a storm ruled sea.
A storm if thawed,
would kill me.

Peace.

The Ugly fades.
The lone tree amongst the broken becomes whole.
The ugly, a piece of the collective beauty
Tells me there is no beauty apart from community.

Eyes adjust.

I see a lone green bud atop the once ugly tree.
I smile.
No longer asleep.
No longer missing things.

I breathe.

The sting of the struggle lead me to peace.
I broke free from the chains,
the desire, the prison
The numbing need to stay, asleep.