Five objects each task
I count the cups as I wash them
Then count them again as I dry them
Folding five towels
Five items from gravity storage to destination
Five uniforms ironed
All to forget that outside
A man was just murdered
By his memories,
So technically a murder/suicide.
They say he went to the gas station and called 911
Then returned to stay with her until they came.
He had her blood on his hands
And his own pouring out from his stomach
Not at all like the TV
No need for music swells to set the mood.
The cop who wrestled him, banging loud at my door
I say I know nothing
Because at that moment all I know
Is the need to lock my door five times when he leaves.
Not even the Doctor or Torchwood
Erasing the memory
Or stopping the rocking
I am not here but there again
Counting the hands and the bodies
Playing a sorting of colors
Like human M&M’s.
Five corn chips
Five letters started and shredded
Five random posts onto face book
I walk the dogs
Counting my steps
In sets of five
Five more minutes
I can be OK, in five more minutes
In the meantime, five quick games of Words with Friends
Five seemed to choose itself as my magic number.
Three was not enough to soothe me
Back when I picked a cap for my compulsive behaviors
And six just too many
I still had children to raise and life to live and function was my highest priority
Only later did I equate it with the elements
Earth, Fire, Air, Water and the One Spirit infused in all
But sometimes instead of counting I say them.
Five more steps, five more minutes, five more bites
When I am reaching
Anyone can eat a whale, five bites at a time.
And only five when I am coping, forgetting
Remembering I am alive.
As remedy for my PTSD diagnosis
And this too shall pass.