Healing The Wounds

This poem is about holding on to stuck trauma. How we protect our wounds, even if we don't know or remember where it came from, because it feels comfortable, and in a strange way, safe. Because it's what we know. We know how to hang on. We've been doing it for so long, it's automatic. We keep hanging on for dear life, instead of allowing it to come to the surface. It must be released somehow. Writing poetry helps me release it. I hope listening to this can help you release some of your trapped pain and trauma and begin to heal...Namaste.

Transcript

How do you heal the wounds buried so deep inside? How do you know where to find them? They've been there for so long, They feel like home, A strange comfort buried in your bones. Who am I without this pain? How did it even get there? I don't know. From when I was a baby because my parents needed to tend to other things. From when I was six as I hid behind my mother's legs. What was I hiding from? Why did I hide? What was I afraid of? Why am I still afraid now of this memory that I can't even recall? Do I need to know what it is to heal it? Or do I just dive in head first and try to rinse it all away with my breath, My body, My will? Can I will it away? Is my desire enough? Is my grit and passion and determination what's going to get it out? Stuck to my insides like a salve coating my wounds, Keeping them safe. I don't know how to let go, Let it free, This pain that's been a part of me for decades. Does it have a scent, A pheromone, A beacon, A target? Is it something that draws the next person to me like I'm fresh meat to claw on? How do I heal it, Release it, Let it go, Once and for all, So I can be free?

Reviews

Very supportive and bringing healing. Thank you 🙏🏾🧡🫂