PTSD

My memories are faded films.
Like they sat in the sun 7 years too long.
I think the blob on the left is my mom.

Sometimes they come through like silent films.
My father's stern face as he yells at me
But I still have no clue what the hell he's saying.

Other times the sounds there, but the audio
Doesn't sync up with the film
Like I'm watching a dubbed kung fu movie.
His lips are moving 50 frames per second,
But I swear all I hear is "I love you."

And then they come through perfect.
I can see every detail.
That piece of shrapnel as it pierces Sergeant Jones . . .

EDDIE HODGES is a combat veteran and most of his poetry is about war. He finds writing is a form of release that allows him to deal with everything that he has been through. He graduated from Pearl River Community College where he was named to the All-Mississippi Academic Team. He has been published. He has a short memoir titled "My Books Are Vets" and a poem titled "Worse Day of His Life" published in the 2012 edition of Nota Bene.