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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · War · #1207251
Black Snake is what many call PTSD.
Black Snake
By: Bruce A. Hestley
Aviation Fire Control Technician First Class
US Navy 1964-1979

Black Snake
Where did he come from
I didn't notice at first
I just noticed him one day
I stayed busy and kept him at bay
I would look down a passageway and see him slither around a corner
I would be driving down the street and see him slither under a parked car
I would lay down to go to sleep and I would see his evil, malevolent face
Mocking me
Always smiling
Where did he come from
Was it when the grape tore through my buddy at Gettysburg
Maybe it was when the cannon blew up during training, maiming so many friends
Or perhaps when many shipmates were taken in agony as the burning fuel of a bad aircraft landing got them
But not me
Black Snake got me
He was there all the time
He was there when I slapped my child across the face and saw her love for me disappear
He was in the corner
Laughing his evil laugh when I beat my wife's love out of her
My family was afraid of me
My coworkers kept their distance
All the time, Black Snake slithered his oily way through my life
He haunts my dreams
I have no dreams
Only nightmares
I have friends
Good friends
Jack Daniels and Johnny Walker
We meet often at a VFW, or a Legion hall or an AMVETS
No one else understands
We have comfort in numbers there
We tell our stories over and over
Black Snake is there, but we never mention him by name
He is pure evil and we are all afraid of him
This evil, this pure unadulterated evil is there
He laughs at the beach of Normandy
He slithers into another life as a torpedo takes a troopship
At Chosin Reservoir and places to numerous to name
Even at training bases
In the rice paddies, jungles and river boats in The Nam
He is there
Gathering a following
More souls for his games of torment
I'm told I did good
But, THEY don't know Black Snake
Those who know, don't need to be told
Those who don't, refuse to listen or understand
Black Snake
He is joyful as the 30mm of the Warthog sends a tank crew to their destination
and the pilot realizes what he's done
He is there every day on the streets of Basra
Riding with the convoys from Baghdad to Kuwait
How to sleep, to rest
Only my friends Jack and Johnny to keep me company
I see Black Snake, watching
This time, he doesn't slither away
I look at him and know what I must do
I must confront him
Jack and Johnny are there with me
I know there is only one way to kill Black Snake
As the bullet rips through my brain
I see him one last time
For a moment
He is laughing
He has won
But I am now free of him
Blackness and rest now
Or is it?

PTSD
The invisible wound
BLACK SNAKE

Copyright © 2007 Bruce A. Hestley
© Copyright 2007 Twoshadows (twoshadows at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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