...Nor Shifted Sphere Confuse Thy Brain




Words failing...fawning about...grasping at syllables. Pointing to his
head... his heart. Hoping in some magical way I understood his internal war. A heavy heart buckles under the torrent of tears.
At last an audible sentence that clarifies his struggle. "I've seen things. It keeps me awake."

Sleep was a stranger to him. Rest was replaced with a dread of ghostly images. Fear had looted his soul. The weight of exhaustion was heavy on his eyes.

"It was an IED. It killed the lieutenant outright. My buddy behind me
lost his eye. I got shrapnel in my shoulder and stomach. It should have been me that died."

Regret...sorrow...loathing...the sum of his fears. Emotions were wild and unpredictable. The uncertainty of each moment was evident in his composure. Compassion mixed with sympathy gave me the urge to embrace him, to grasp him like a mighty oak if only for a moment...to give him a sense of anchor.

We sat for long periods of silence.
In short words I learned of his home...
his folks...
his girl...


I awkwardly eased my way into his pain.
"I can't begin to comprehend what your experiencing.
Why me...
Why him...
Why now...
Questions that may never be satisfied. I can tell you that Jesus said,
Consider the lilies, how they grow, they toil not, neither do they spin. Yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. How much more valuable are you than they? Do not worry. God knows your need. You must believe this."

"Be patient with yourself. Never surrender hope.
You may feel sadness, grief, and fear. But you have an advantage over most. You are getting the help you need."

"With Gods help and hard work we will get you through this son. Never give up"

Thank you chaplain. Will you come back tomorrow?
"You can count on it"

In the slightest...hope appeared on his countenance. Peace hovered above like a garment ready to be worn.
A light...
ever so faint...
an ember...
a flame.

The body sluggish, aged, cold...
the embers left from earlier fires,
the light in the eye grown dim
shall duly flame again.
- Walt Whitman


(The Agony of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder PTSD)
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