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.
Tag: therapy
Battle
It's an ongoing battle
between evidence
for why you might
continue to choose me
and evidence
for all the reasons
you would not.
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.
