Seven of us
around a long table...
We sit there, quietly,
emotionally and mentally
bleeding all over the place,
as we're crying inside,
flinching,
in pain, in anger,
in fear...
And we call it
Therapy.

One guy says something,
and the shit hits the fan again.
Another guy says something,
and we're back there
instantly -
if only for a moment...
And it's strange,
for me, because
it's a good feeling,
because I'm able,
for that moment,
to return to that place
that I swore I would never miss.

I'll give our moderator kudos -
to shut herself up
in a room full of dysfunctional,
disgruntled,
emotionally troubled
Vietnam Vets
is not something most folks would do
on purpose,
but she does it every week.

Gotta give us credit, too -
we're trusting her.
And she's not one of us.
Hell, she never even wore a uniform!
But she's sitting there,
listening to us,
hearing the drops falling
as our minds and memories bleed...
And we are allowing that.

It's a private part of our lives
that up to this point
damn few of us have ever shared
or allowed anyone else to know about.
Secrets.
We kept them to ourselves.
Shame, Paranoia, Self-Hate, Anger,
Survivor Guilt...
And, sometimes, as in my case,
even Survivor Envy -
To me, the ones on The Wall
are the lucky ones.

We've kept it all bottled up
and never opened up about it.
Hell, who would believe us!?
We hardly believe it ourselves,
even now.
How in hell could all that shit
have happened
to each of us,
in so many different ways,
yet all the ways just the same?

The emotions we have now,
the ones we live with today,
are nothing
compared to what we put aside
in our minds
back when it was happening.
But those actions and thoughts
and the memories
are what have finally driven us,
today,
to come here to this room,
to sit around this long table,
quietly...
emotionally and mentally
bleeding all over the place.

We're all hoping it works.

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