PTSD - 2: Grandpa

They wept more for you
I never understood
because you were murdered
and he was supposed to die.

Just three weeks apart
my daddy, my grandpa
gone
who loved me more
no matter
dead.

I watched them weep for
you grandpa
wondering why
I didn't see them cry that
hard for my father
your death a tragedy
his a relief

your death
and his
are alive for me
still
in the corners of the
kitchen where I opened
the door to tears and moans,
on the far wall of my bedroom
where I watched shadows
at night instead of understanding
that nothing was the same,
on the school bus where looks
of pity wrapped me in kind blankets
that I grew used to wearing.

That is where I keep you.