A Poppy Tale

These are all pictures I've taken.
They are a part of my journey, a pictorial journey.
My poppy series is one of my favorites.
I was going to save these recent pictures of fall for a special time.
That time has come.
They tell an unexpected story.
I'll share it with you now.

Some days I feel twisted, unsure,
ensnared in this PTSD journey.

I look at the road ahead, and it looks confusing,
and terribly downhill.
I'm afraid I'll stumble or fall head first.

Then for a split second I see my path so clearly.
It's an uphill trip
but I know
it's totally worth the climb.

I'm not afraid to sit, and reflect on where I've been
or where I need to go.
It's standing still that scares me most....

Sometimes, especially in moments of inner ,clarity,
I see the fruits of my labor.
Glimpses of where this journey is taking me.

And sometimes...
The buried treasures in PTSD
is revealed to me in unexpected places.

Even if it makes me blue to look at it,
it's a part of the puzzle coming together.

It's in moments like these...

I see a clear reflection of me
through others who have fallen in trauma's arms,
and slept with the ghost of their pasts with no real rest.
It reminds me to remember
I'm not alone...

And even though I feel crumpled, and parched at times,
There is life stirring underneath the dry places.
And every life tells a story.
Every, single one....

Thank you everyone
For being apart of my journey to wholeness.
You've witnessed my tears, my fears,
heard my laughter, my triumphs,
And witnessed my many ups, and downs.
Your words bring me peace, and comfort
just as autumn calms my soul
with her long nights, short days.

I'll curl up in a chair this winter.
I want to finish writing my book.
And I'll reflect on others who've gone before me
like Lisa's Grandfather.
Read his story here, Poppies and Lost Dreams.
A soldier who never received help like I am for PTSD.

This post is for all the fallen giants, and young boys
who served in the military, and stood tall for us.
For those who never had
a safe place to go
Or never found their voice to tell their stories
of what they suffered, and witnessed, so we could be free.
R.I.P Grand-Pere
Your story has added a healing balm to my heart,
and given me courage to walk tall.
I'll walk tall for you, and myself.
There's no shame in PTSD.
~None~