Strangled No. 2

Yesterday
as I walked toward my car
in the usual way
I walked into someone else’s memory
or feeling
Someone was struck there
and I felt it so deeply that I too
knew the shock and suffering
of that act of violence.

A week ago
on the trail,
I felt the approach of a man
who I knew would
assault me,
strike the back of my head
and grab my neck.
When I turned to look
in horror,
there was no one.
Only the trees
holding on
to the last few leaves.

I was not struck
by anyone.
The violation of my
body was minimal.
Yet today as I drove along
the highway,
I felt the distinct memory
of being bludgeoned,
of my skull impacting
with stone.

When these memories come, I feel them in my body.