I figure, the Biggest of the bigger than bigger triggers, is to write an entire poem about ’em, and even call it Triggers. The way I figure, if it’s my trigger, how am I gonna let someone else, someone I don’t want, to have their finger on my trigger. I’m gonna need to pay heed and dig deep for this, so here goes… rape, hand gun violence, police brutality, racism, physical abuse, neglect, suicide, self harm, theft, parent dying, child dying, sibling dying, friend dying, car accident, coma, 45, political discussion, religious discussion, bad bosses, murder, graphic video, graphic language, removal of bandages. And on and on. We all got ’em. We all know ’em. We all got those things that just get us going. Please be mindful, or this grind will get us all trying to find and squeeze each other’s triggers. We’re this close to letting morality slip through our fingers. That sense of forgetting lingers. I don’t know if I was the deepest of diggers. If we contemplated more and hated more we could come up with thousands of triggers. But let’s stick with hope than to submit to big fears. Please be mindful, or this grind will get us all dying sooner than expected. Please be mindful.


Being heard, stirred, and perhaps cured by life's many hidden images and the written-spoken word.
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