We are driving home, broad daylight.

Our son is in the backseat telling us

How the grammar school had a lockdown drill.

He is talking about security and red alerts and danger

About bad people getting in and trying to hurt him

And about hiding and staying still so he does not get captured.

If you react at all, if your hand tightens on the wheel,

I do not notice.

I am too busy telling him how this is normal, just protocol,

Practice for something that could happen but will never happen,

Because that is what you do, what you say, and all I can think of.

Later you tell me what happened to you, while you drove,

While you listened to him, how you reached for them,

Your guns, your M4 and your M9

Even though, even though

You have been home for a year now.

It is you say, searching, for the best word to describe it,

And when you cannot find it, I say crazy, not because it is,

But because I do not want to say what it really is, this thing,

A flashback.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Security

  1. Your poems are moving and very powerful.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s