Her injury didn’t happen
on a battlefield,
but rather in an unsecured,
off-site Army barracks,
with a poorly locking door
that she reported
immediately upon notice.
They did nothing.
She would have to replay
the memory of
her rape at knifepoint
everyday for a year
(that’s how it felt),
until the matter was
closed.
She wasn’t offered
psychological counseling
at the time;
it was 1968.
She quickly married,
and her husband’s only advice
was to try and forget it.
When I met her in 1994,
she was the strongest fragile person
I ever met.
Eventually,
she received treatment for
her PTSD,
and a partial medical disability
from the Veteran’s Administration.
That assault
cost her so many things,
including our love,
and Teresa,
I’m sorry
I couldn’t help more.
When you can’t see
the injury,
it’s hard to know
how deep is the wound.
