There was a time when trauma roared, vibrations under skin, constant

And inappropriately escalating whenever it chose

Electrified brain, galloping heart, splintered vision, at odds with thought

And despotically, cold-heartedly—-

Inconvenient

~~~~

When the most basic parts of our brains are confused

The ‘off’ and ‘on’ switch stuck tiresomely in-between

Trying to help, but just—–

Dysregulated

~~~~

The fortunate ones can one day speak of such things

Gloriously in past tense. Not meaning that sounds do not startle

Adrenaline too easy to find

But increasingly more pliant, manageable

More often than not

~~~~

It is as if one day after the sacred, demanding work that is healing

We choose to climb out of cocoon, released

Look up at the sky, unfurl soft wings and say,

“This space that I’ve been in, it no longer fits

I need to move about, wobble away. Because

This has been my story, will always be my story, but

My life is now bigger than this”

~~~~

—–there is hope within the cocoon of trauma and PTSD. And I heard a cancer survivor say, “I had cancer, but my life is getting bigger than this.”

©Heather Pound 2021