An Ode to Bessel Van Der Kolk’s ‘The Body Keeps the Score’

Call it biology but it feels like mad reality. When thoughts hurtle around at the speed of insanity

Appearing before intention is put to purpose. Few words in mind fit to be of service

Entire life slave to the beat. Humdrum pattern of thoughts and images even in the depths of sleep

Conditioned reflexes to external stimuli. Coiled in past transgressions and the memory of a haunting cry

All amygdala, limited frontal lobe activation. The unseen scars of traumatic devastation

Taken by the sorry hand of destiny best accept your fate. Twirl around in a pirouette with eternity till you can’t see straight

Find solace from madness in an empty flask. Revel in an endless supply of medication hidden behind the mask

Kiss of steel upon the skin. Confiscated blade replaced with the lid of a tomato tin

Anything to feel alive and in control. To cope with the abuse and the future it stole

Bereft of anything left to plunder. Frozen in time and cast asunder

Grains of sand thread the hourglass. Life is fleeting and cannot last

Despair and anguish lie at the heart of the trial. None get out of life without a scratch or they live in self-denial

Psychology prone to dwell on the negative and dismiss the good. Yet suffering spurts growth if pain is willing to be withstood

Lock away demons out of fear of retribution. Or unsheathe your blade and stage spiritual revolution

Aware that life is fleeting, and troubles abound. Never give up until love lost is love found