In the back of my closet
where trauma stays squished
hidden in my amygdala
till the triggers shoot them
out as the arrow seeks a bullseye.
gasps for air, paired with that sinking
sense of doom – cloud my room
no longer a scene of peace.
jagged daggers take aim.
*Pam’s kidnapping
*Dave’s suicide
* the groping by that company Dr.
* the 3 am call by the nurse – Jim’s gone
* mama’s final week in hospice
* Clancy’s last gasp for air on my kitchen floor
* the bloody miscarriage
*· alone in the Dearborn park walking my dog being harassed by 3 teens
* the first of 8 eye surgeries
* the day after Jim’s memorial service when they all left
Neatly shoved in that closet
until a sound, a song, a scent,
a swaying orchid,
a photograph,
a recording of his voice,
a deep loneliness
let them escape.
9 thoughts on "In the back of my closet"
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Brilliant rendering of loss and grief.
This struck chords :”the day after Jim’s memorial service/when they all left”
Yes. What a writing. Wow.
That first stanza hes such great metrics and sounds and puts us there with you through your list.
And the close is so universal. vulnerable and incredible.
Thank you for sharing.
thank you for showing where the sense of doom (exactly the right word) can come from in this powerful poem
You take us with you through each moment. What power and grace your poem holds.
I love the embodyment of “hidden in my amygdala” and it does a lot of grounding!
Loss and grief are something we must all deal with and navigate in our own special way.
The sharpness and surprise of that moment of trigger felt throughout the poem. Well done, Linda!
So poignant, genuine and powerful.
You turned the pain into beautiful work, Linda.
I especially love the last stanza and “until a sound, a song, a scent,” It is so sharp, like a dagger, taking another stab at the open wounds.
This was a heartfelt and an incredible poem on loss and hardship. It was, as Fanny said, genuine. Great job, Linda!