the story goes

Stuffed cat buckled into front car seat, colorful wallet
Comfort objects are common in adults who have unhealed trauma.

on and on.

no one knows
    the story goes on
       damage to the psyche
           trauma, repeat
               evidence —
                   case in point
               broken ties,
                   nothing bound

hush, hush
   stay sweet,
       stay low —

no one asked
   no one wants to know

everyone
   wants
        me
        to
        move
           on

what is happening?
    why are you like this?

sit down, stay still, hush, listen —
    nothing,
    no response
        frozen in place

no one
    understands
        trauma

and so,
    on and on
        the story goes


Part of i didn’t ask, a recent poetry collection I put together. I considered putting it into a book, but it’s a small, ongoing collection of poems about my past and who I am today.

Love this post?

Support me by subscribing to my blog and/or buying me a cuppa:

Leave a comment

Comments on this post

It still amazes me to this day that people aren’t aware of how much children observe, how much they don’t understand about the world around them, and how often it’s said that it’s okay to say or do something to a child because they won’t remember it when older anyhow. But the child does remember, and doesn’t understand why it’s happening…becomes convinced that it’s because they weren’t good enough, cute enough, not…enough something. Then when a child acts up and wants to explain what’s going on – they’re told to sit still and be quiet…that children are to be seen and not heard. But you know all of this, and your poem captured this perfectly. I hope that these poems are helping you to progress on the healing journey because I know that they’re helping others who come across them.

Reply to this »