November 2 by Amy Shannon (2017)
I dread this day I dread the reminders then I am reminded that I always remember I remember the when, the how, most of what happened. still never figured out why I feel I died that day, and came back stronger, yet, some days I want to crumble The memories are not all just in my head but my heart and my soul I remember the day I was hated. Hated with a rage beyond life I know why there is the P. or the T. or the S. in PTSD. I get the triggers. I know what to do with them I fire back. I squeeze them in my mind, and bury them I won't let them escape. That day affected me, affected me more than I care to admit I'm more protective. Less trusting. I think of it as more cynical Stronger in some ways, weaker in others 12 years and counting and I hope sometime it fades away No matter what, I won't let it define me.
Poet's Note: This poem is NOT yet published in a poetry book, and remains my property.
This poem is a reflection on my almost death on November 2 2005 when I was a victim of Domestic Violence. I share my pain and my story as a way of self-healing and to help others know it is survivable.