Trauma

Pulse…

Of what’s apparent,

Rises and then declines,

Races and then subsides,

A chaotic,

Turbulent catastrophic green,

No, no…

Red

Maybe amber

Or Crimson,

And yet blueish black,

It is hard to follow,

Or make sense

Or lack of it,

I’m unsure.

I feel choked,

No,

Floored and beaten,

I scream,

Yet, there is no voice to muster sense,

Some form justification,

Some sense of redemption…

I feel hope,

But breathe a shallow reflection of the opposite.

But still…

There is a pulse…

Am I alive

Or am I dead inside?

Note: Trauma is something that is hard to explain. It is hard to justify. Hard to quantify. Hard to make sense. I felt it a few years back. And it totally crippled me to the point where I simply could not recognise myself. That was probably one of the darkest, if not the scariest point in my life. Nothing mattered but at the same time everything mattered. I was not in control of my emotions- I just let them rip through. I believe grace pulled me through. And if you’ve ever gone through real trauma- seek help. And remember to just let your emotions run through, don’t pen them inside- find some safe space to simply mourn, and truly let those raging emotions out.

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