Trauma is a dark matter.
A viscous, vile substance that clogs our veins and suffocates our very souls. It clouds our vision and weakens our temperament until we are but shells of ourselves. Trauma blocks out the sun with its persistent darkness, chokes our hearts into submission. Trauma leaves us in pieces. Struggling to breathe.
Unwilling to survive.
Trauma lives in us like a cancer. It lives in our bodies, forcing us to live in our heads. We become strangers to our own needs. The trap is insidious. We travel further and further away from who we are, until we look back and realise we are lost to our own existence and there is no map, no light, no trail of crumbs to guide us home. No solace. It is too late. We are alone but for that dark matter, our only companion.
That dark matter feeds on us, colours our every interaction, infiltrates our minds leaving us with no safe space, no sanctuary, no rest and little hope. A parasite that will never be satiated, that will never stop until we destroy ourselves, unless we find a way to destroy it, a way to go home.
In my knowing, I am sure. There is a way.
I have fought that beast so long my bones ache. I am broken and bloodied. My withered soul cries out for relief, sings a tortured song of love. Somewhere- far away and lost- I contemplate surrender. But I hear that sad song. I hear my shattered heart, beating its faint rhythm of accompaniment. I am so weary, so hurt I could lay in this void for eternity- yet the music somehow compels me to pick up my sword once again. With sweet words, I cajole my aching bones to resume their journey toward the sound of the song. Toward the centre of myself, toward that which is pure. I know I will find the tiny green shoots that spring from the scorched earth of my inner landscape. I, too, will reach for the light. I know I will continue this fight, so long as I am able to draw breath.
In my knowing, I will find the way back home.