"It's being caught between air against water, not able to breathe. Then, the sound of trees."

PTSD can be very physical. Sometimes I'm not able to recognise myself or the people or things around me. I get trapped in a storm and time stops and my blood turns to poison. Sometimes the storm can be allayed by a scent. A wrenched memory of somewhere else. So I carry a bottle to get there.

"in the half-light of dusk"

in the half-light of dusk
after the day has prepared
hard surfaces for inspection
before the night has plunged
things back into themselves
there is a settlement in which
the external and the internal are
continuous with the evening air
if you are alone at the edge
of shadows you are not alone
the hours of light shine in you
with a compacted energy that
also burns in tree and stone
partly revealed and partly veiled

by Thomas A. Clark
from The Path to the Sea (Todmorden: Arc, 2006)