she was there

glowing
looking at me and
through

holding the son; 
the repair: 

blue and white
hair the color of -
there aren't words
she was she
and me and all in;

holding him
i crossed over
the waning crescent,
held and stroked.

nothing was asked of me
I was present -
I was:
and she loved
and that was all that was.

"Does she have a name?"

no name, yet.
she wasn't there for
introductions

she was there to
show love
to offer
to nurture

and I 
to receive.

Reflection

She says to me,

“You get to figure this all out. 
What a beautiful
challenge to overcome.”

She suggests I look
not to the trauma
or the pain
but the fear.
Fear of being left.
Fear of being seen. 

“You look through lenses
scratched and clouded.
You feel through fear.
Until you know your ground,
until you know
what you want
and expect nothing less,
you’ll continue to question.
You’ll continue to feel doubt.”

I look to her
tears decades old
decorate my face. 

“So what now?”

She looks at me with
a knowing smile.

“You already know.” 

Trauma

A distressing event
a disruption
unsettling.

A disconnection
from the experience
of self,
of others.

How can one
learn to settle
in a body
that's proven
fallible
in a world in which
we so desperately
seek certainty.

a reminder

you are worthy
you are worthy
you are worthy
you are worthy
you are worthy
you are worthy
you are powerful
you are enough for all that you need
you are deserving of love
you are worthy
you are worthy

I, too, am.