I haven’t written poetry in many years.  This is what resulted from my last call:


Mothers in Medicine

We self-medicate with colors and sound
Suppressing every trace  
until it’s gone
Only to emerge the next time when we are

Creating new nightmares
Flashes of faces
Of skin
Of cords
Of inside
Of babies
Breeding deeper and deeper layers of hypervigilance
For our own

Then we step through the threshold, into the light