Becoming Shrink-Wrapped

Another day, another mind mapper

He tells me we're not here to go over

Every little detail of my history - relief

Washes over me just in time to hear

Him continue - no, what he wants

To do is help me discover who I am

Oh joy, oh thank you Jesus, I think

But don't say aloud; after all I do

Want to be released from this place

Of cages and experimental drugs

And doctors like this one someday

And sooner rather than later I hope

And sarcastic remarks don't aid

In that result usually ...

I allow my brain to slide into the zone

While this guy begins his spiel about

The ego, the id and the super-ego

I wonder vaguely if he's even glanced

At my file; taken into consideration

How long I've been at this game

Been in the so-called system

Or, noticed - and this I am sure not -

That I have some background in psychology;

I might know a little bit about the basics

I forget just where he is in his lecture

When I realize I can't stand another

Minute of this useless appointment

I sit up straighter - look him in the eyes

So intently he actually stops talking

Looks somewhat nervous - the silence

In the office is louder than rush-hour

Traffic; we are at a stalemate, glaring

At each other when I finally tell him

Flat out, "You do realize I am just

fucking crazy right?" He literally jumps

a bit; I mean, his whole body lifts off

the chair and back from the desk

before jarring back down - he still stares

"And you are something like my tenth

shrink?" I continue now that I have

his attention, I figure I might as well

Go for it - I can see he's trying to

Compose himself and decide to take

Pity on him - "Listen, I know you're just

trying to do your job and it's a thankless

crap job at that, but if you could just

please try not bull-shitting me -"

He has started shaking his head as if

to say, oh no, he wasn't --

"Doing the whole ego blah blah blah

routine on me is such old news ..."

I tell him; "I'm just saying, it's not

helpful. I will walk out of here and

try to get a day pass so I can get

to the High Level Bridge and leap off

 - you take my meaning?"

He has the good grace to blanche

His pasty white face growing whiter

than I would have believed possible

No shrink wants a suicide on their

record but an in-hospital offing?

On their watch? It doesn't bear thinking

about; I can practically read his mind

Shortly he sends me off with an aide

back to the ward still crazy, still unsolved

S.E.Ingraham©

Second Sunday in May and No More Roses

Every year on this day of days

They take part in a ritual

the significance of which

Only those haunted by these

particular demons understand

Or have need of

Each one is as revered as any goddess

And travels as far as it takes to visit

The same sacred place; a site indigenous

To those who die while serving

Their country

With unspoken intentions they converge

As if gathering at a summit, each one

Carrying a flag folded to the exact

Specifications as each other one

They have no need for further elaborations

It is Mother's Day - these are the mothers of dead sons and they meet here annually—

to remember their boys;

It is the only time they allow themselves the indulgence of so much remembering, rubbing their memories like the well-worn beads on the string of a rosary

They store their commonality and strength, the courage they take from each other, fit for another year.

S.E.Ingraham©

no more than the bird with the piercing voice*

night is rendered mute

blanketed in storms of

soot, smoke, blood-stains

the youngest are always

led away first in no

particular order, maybe

by height; eyes eloquent

shrieks strafe the air

in the beginning but

shortly it is silence

that makes the eardrums

throb

S.E.Ingraham©

*from a fragment of a Sappho poem