Plague Morning

Global Poemic

by Ann E. Michael

I had been well, twisting the stem
of a cruciform blossom or a forget-me-not,
and everything was ripening then
I took to my bed for dreaming.

When the birds began to waken
I found myself unwrapping a flannel sheet,
then bones, then a bloodless knot
at my feet, whitened

contrasting this damp dark soil,
the wide field tilled but nothing sown, and knew
at once that weeds would claim it—
but what of the unclaimed bones?

I don’t know, I could not tell
if they were my own or the bean-field’s
or dream-skeletons or a wayward bird’s.
I only know I took, then, to my bed.

Ann E. Michael lives in Pennsylvania, USA, where she currently directs the writing center at DeSales University. She is a poet, educator, essayist, and librettist who has appeared in print regularly since 1982. Her most recent collection of poems is

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The Adventures of Rix Rocket & The Poo-Bag Kid

Our normally quick around-the-block morning business trip took a bit more time today. We were out for an hour because this wee little otherwise adorable dog decided, two doors away from home on our first go around, that he needed to desperately poop. He even tried to find a spot on our own front lawn …

Death By A Thousand Cuts

The big question we’re almost always asked, the one that we dread when we’ve been on the job for a few years, but when new and still eager we love to answer, is, “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen?” If you are a first responder of some type, please, oh god please, do not …

When you’re “stuck” in PTSD…

Walking In My Shoes

When you have PTSD, especially those of us who were first responders, life changes dramatically. Some of us, with timely, appropriate intervention and a caring, supportive community, seem to bounce back with only a “momentary” (a few months to a few years) interruption to our lives and functioning. Yet others of us encounter complications in our path to healing that keep our brains and nervous systems enmeshed in that traumatic experience, resulting in a situation where we are seemingly permanently stuck in fight or flight.

Chronic, or more commonly, Complex PTSD, is the term given to this situation where our brains and bodies are “stuck” in PTSD and reach a point where treatments often stall. Despite all of your best effort trying to get better with treatment, things don’t go completely away.

In trying to define C-PTSD the experts have described situations of prolonged abuse (years); weeks of threat in…

View original post 563 more words

When you’re “stuck” in PTSD…

Walking In My Shoes

When you have PTSD, especially those of us who were first responders, life changes dramatically. Some of us, with timely, appropriate intervention and a caring, supportive community, seem to bounce back with only a “momentary” (a few months to a few years) interruption to our lives and functioning. Yet others of us encounter complications in our path to healing that keep our brains and nervous systems enmeshed in that traumatic experience, resulting in a situation where we are seemingly permanently stuck in fight or flight.

Chronic, or more commonly, Complex PTSD, is the term given to this situation where our brains and bodies are “stuck” in PTSD and reach a point where treatments often stall. Despite all of your best effort trying to get better with treatment, things don’t go completely away.

In trying to define C-PTSD the experts have described situations of prolonged abuse (years); weeks of threat in…

View original post 563 more words

Well, I liked It

I found out yesterday (though I kinda already knew) that I'd not made the long list for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation Literary Non-Fiction Prize this year. I thought this one had some real potential. Anyway, I present it here for you ne'er do wells to judge. How I Spent My Mayan Apocalypse When I was …

Walk it off

Walking In My Shoes

An old friend/coworker of my late husband is undertaking an ambitious endeavor to hike the Bruce Trail end to end in 30 days. He’s named his hike, PTSD HIKING 4HEROES.

He has established a GoFundMe in that name and hopes to raise funds to secure training as a Forest Therapy guide, as well as establish a forest therapy program for first responders / former first responders fighting with PTSD.

He is, once again, carrying my husband’s coffee mug on his journey, as he’d previously done in his hikes in both BC and the East coast. I delivered the mug to him and with mixed emotion, gave him my blessings on his new journey.

Doing this sort of thing is quite difficult for me, entrusting my late husband’s memory to another feels like I’m betraying his trust in me as his wife to care for and memorialize him in the most…

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An Unintended Passenger

The table is set perfectly. Mom has taken her best china and silver from the hutch, and used the best paper napkins she could find but only because they have the cutest turkeys printed on them and they’re festive. They match the paper tablecloth, too. Aromas rise from the food, mixing to an orchestral crescendo …

Why I scroll past mental illness denial memes. (Thoughts on happiness as a state of being.)

That Asian-Looking Chick

Self-help has good intentions, but I think it’s gotten a little out of hand. I mean, I shouldn’t be, but I’m still kind of astonished when I scroll through social media and see that suddenly, everyone has become a life coach.

Wisdom wrapped up in little square boxes. I post memes, too, sometimes. The last one I posted said, “Reading can seriously damage your ignorance.” Most of the few I’ve posted have been fitness-related.

My pet peeve of the self-help meme universe is the genre I think of as “mental illness denial.” At the tired center of this genre, you get phrases like, “Happiness is a choice.” “Happiness is a choice, not a result.” “Today I choose to be happy.” “Happiness is not a feeling, but a choice.” And so on. I know that these are meant to serve as motivational, but I have a hard time with this category.

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Greta Thunberg: In Response to Lies and Hate, Let Me Make Some Things Clear About My Climate Strike

Vox Populi

If everyone listened to the scientists and the facts that I constantly refer to—then no one would have to listen to me or any of the other hundreds of thousands of school children on strike for the climate across the world. Then we could all go back to school.

“I am just a messenger, and yet I get all this hate,” writes Thunberg. “I am not saying anything new, I am just saying what scientists have repeatedly said for decades. And I agree with you, I’m too young to do this. We children shouldn’t have to do this. But since almost no one is doing anything, and our very future is at risk, we feel like we have to continue.” (Photo: @GretaThunberg)

Editor’s note: Originallypostedto Facebook, the following is a statement from 16-year-old Swedish climate activist Greta Thunberg as a response to circulating“rumors and lies” as well…

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