Storm

by Matthew Brown

Water falls to the ground
Cutting through the air with ease
Softly caressing the leaves
Gliding to the earth
Breathing new life to the World

Distant flashes
Bring discord
To the harmony
They rumble quietly
Making an entrance
To the symphony of life

Wind awakening
Once still branches
Bend the rain at will
Driving it
Quickening to escape from the clouds
Trying to avoid the growing anger of the storm

Brilliant light
Streaks the sky
Thunderous sound erupts
Echoing
In every corner of the landscape

This once life-bringing miracle
Now has taken shape
To a killer
Showing its amazing power
Snapping
Twisting
Destroying

The once quaint
Tranquil scene
Has transformed to a battle zone
Of epic proportions

No sign of the storm breaking
Growing in intensity
The terrain devastated
Constant bombardment
No relief

This isn’t a far-off land
Not a strange valley
This is the mind of a Veteran
A Veteran suffering
An unseen injury:
PTSD

Matthew Brown, Lance Corporal, USMC Retired, served a little over two years as a machine gunner with 1st Battalion 8th Marines. He was medically retired October 2005 due to a gun shot he received on November 11, 2004. He is now a voice for those who are struggling with PTSD. 

Cold with no covers trying to stop the night sweats

Demon and angel on my shoulder laughing taking bets

How long will he sleep? How will he awake?

Silently sitting up or with a violent quake?

Now it’s toss and turn, trying to quiet them

The moaning resembling an old time choir hymn

Eyelids flutter; hands clench tight

To sheets now soaked drenched with fright

It’s not a scary movie that haunts the sleep

Nor is it sickness that makes my pores weep

There’s never and end, at least I’m told

BY the ones who went first and now are old