Each night is different, each night the same.

Reading these poems reminds me a lot about people that I know who have to struggle with PTSD every day of their lives.  Each of Turner’s poems makes me think of a teacher that I had back in High School who had PTSD.  The poem Perimeter Watch uses vast amounts of imagery in order to depict basically a war scene throughout Turner’s house.  Fan blades are resembling helicopters, snipers traverse from neighbor’s rooftops, and many other household items and things outside remind him of war.  (pg. 21-21)

My English teacher in High School who had this very same disorder would constantly have setbacks during class that reminded him of war.  He would tell us to move away from the wall if we were too close because we didn’t know what was behind it.  If a student’s cell phone would beep, he would immediately question the noise with a frightening look of concern on his face.  Also, there was an instance where he freaked out during our class because a student dropped their book on the floor and the loud bang it made was reminiscent of a bomb explosion to him.

This book of poetry is very applicable to the lives of many who go through this same disorder on a daily basis.  I feel like this would be a tremendous thing for someone who has this disorder to read so that they have something in which they can directly relate to that might help them with their own disorder.  I think Turner writes in a way that highlights both everything that happened during the time he spent at war along with the effects it held on both him and his family.

Turner, Brian. Phantom Noise. Farmington, Me.: Alice James, 2010. Print.

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One thought on “Each night is different, each night the same.

  1. I remember you talking about this in class. When I was a kid, I would visit my friends father quite a bit, while he was Russian, he defected as a child into Germany, and moved to the U.S. and joined our military. Him and an old vietnam buddy bought houses next to each other and his friend would have flashbacks all the time. This guy kept guns, literally in every corner of his house, and one under his pillow. If he fell asleep on my friends dad’s couch, could be seen cradling an imaginary AR-15, rocking his arms, like he is shooting something. He would at times duck down in to a low stance, just at the sound of a bird nearby. Forget watching Rambo, Terminator, or anything like that, since it would have been a guaranteed freakout. He taught us a lot though, since he was always afraid that ‘tomorrow’ anything could happen. I guess if the zombie-pocolypse comes around, I am set. (A good point to PTSD perhaps?)

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