I think I’m healed
Mostly I am…
But that doesn’t stop the occasional unbidden ripping of my heart
At the sight of a blue or gray uniform, a government car,
A familiar face triggering menacing memories.
My eyes dilate with the fresh sensation of silky voices with rough hands jammed hard across our muffled grief,
Disguised as heroes, acting as villains.
Doesn’t stop the sudden mental jolt from a snuggly video session on the couch
To places where I learned that institutional justice is sold to the biggest liars,
Rehabilitation is a rip-off, a joke with an abusive punchline,
And people I trust to fold sheets of truth into protective doves
Might origami them into slander swords instead.
I bleed and weep
Until the next time trauma,
catching me off guard,
Washes over me in