I hold my hand-I make a self-healing circle.
Trauma shatters and scatters the soul and the brain.
For me, it took place on the street, somehow expected... then sometime later in my home- no longer a sanctuary.
I know he was probably brought up brutally; I know she was abused as a child.
I was the vessel that ruptured from the shove of the knife, the force of the punch.
Many years later I make sense of why I am who I am. Why I could not reach out to kindness, instead hunkering down.
Nature leading into me. Cocooned and safe within voiceless entities, observing how growth reaches to the sky and draws down into the earth, I emerged stronger ready to reach and pull away from just me.
