The Day After

 Graduation Day

On the day after 

my “final” session,

my “last” day with

my brilliant PTSD therapist,

I mostly gnashed my teeth,

tried to get some sleep,

still felt the pain beneath,

tamped down the urge to weep.

Even with helpful friends,

a patient and adoring wife,

I knew that graduation day 

left me with more work to do,

as the sentence was for life.

It was time to stand tall,

shoulders back,

not focus on the lack,

behave like a Marine,

treat myself like 

someone who can ask for 

deserved help, 

whenever madness or

panic attacks returned 

to my daily scene.

Years later now,

life goes on,

as I live it with 

bold common sense,

aggressive simplicity,

and my version of faith.

And poetry, let’s not forget,

and always, a cat to pet.