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Saturday, March 18, 2017

The Sunday Poet: Kristie Connolly

Kristie Connolly





Kristie Connolly lives in Shirley, Massachusetts. She is a 2002 graduate of the North Bennet Street Preservation Carpentry Program School and is self employed as a preservation carpenter. She enjoys writing poetry as a creative outlet.


 PTSD 

We all have our wounds
Things that have ripped us apart
Scars that at first scream, I am hurt!
Then silently become just part of us. 
We know what they are from
Every day we know
If the wound would just stop there
If it would just let our minds rest
But it doesn't
It burrows painful passageways into our brain
Changing us
Demanding we must visit it
Because it is our thoughts now
There is always a new experience
But now it is an experience and the wound pouring over everything
Never just the experience anymore
And so now we are this and also that. 
We are divided and weighted down
Every decision, every joy tempered and every sorrow magnified, it lives with us as us. 
The only way out is to look for the love, feed the love and learn from it.
It is a long spiraled and layered journey but
If we leave it to fester we will surely die. 

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