By Tim Segrest, Army
Writing Type: Poem
I look at this single ice cube in my glass,
I see it bubbling from the sunken edges,
Melting, growing smaller before my eyes
As the warming liquid flows all around it.
Yes, a seemingly lone ice cube, among the many, And I have to wonder - as I often do -
Are the other ice cubes touching it
As their edges are touching to form a single mass? Does the chill pass from one to the other? Silently, defensibly, I actually think
Strangely. I can almost hear it.
Then again, I can almost hear a lot of things. Then, without a sign, it disappears from sight. Not even the coldness will survive after,
As it flows away with the warming current,
And as I sit in my own warming self… I try.
No, I can’t help but find relevance.
I wonder if I am the same
As I feel myself melting away,
Day by day, shrinking from the doubt, Depression, and the on-going pain.
And just as I have witnessed the disappearance
Of this one ice cube, will I do the same?
Will I disappear from everyone’s sight? Unnoticed like I failed to see.
As the ice cube melting in the silence,
Will nothing exist after I cease to be?
Will everything, all that I’ve stood for,
Will it all flow away
With the outgoing, unneeded tide
Of men and women alike?
Notes: Writing Aide: Phyllis Bibeau Editors' Note: Veteran-author Tim Segrest has PTSD and acknowledges that writing is one of his greatest therapies. He encourages fellow vets with their writing, telling them that expressing their feelings on paper is the best way to help ones own self