Fingers, belly, throat,
Empty hollow without hope,
Lifeless hesitation, endlessly waiting.
Waiting for sorrow, ending
Leaving the path;
But you’re not walking here
There will be no fullstop.
The held breath never released.
Spreading stillness could eat me
While I wait in vain.
This is part of a series I’m writing about healing trauma, the second that I’ve written around the same wound. Each time I write about it, a new layer is uncovered that releases more energy around the issue and lets me work with it more deeply. While the words are quite bleak, the feeling afterwards is hopeful.