Therapy Bits

In the crawlway of my mind,

thoughts scatter like autumn leaves—

a blur of colors,

each one a feeling,

each one a fracture

between joy and sorrow.

I stand tight in the grip

of turmoil,

afraid of shadows that dance,

glimmering with trauma,

echoes of despair lingering

like ghosts in a whispering forest.

But I breathe,

searching for space to empathize

with the remnants of my heart,

the remnants that cry for healing

amidst the wreckage of PTSD,

where tears become a language

of release,

where despair finds its silhouette

in the light of understanding.

This journey is a whirl,

a spiral of moments,

each a tender thread

weaving together the tapestry of pain,

the patches stained with sorrow,

yet stitched with hope.

And in the quiet,

where the world is hushed,

I find pockets of joy

that flicker like fireflies,

reminders that even in the depths,

there can be warmth—

a soft glow,

a promise of healing,

a path through the dark,

where I can learn to stand

not alone,

but with the rhythm of a beating heart,

carrying with it,

the strength to rise.

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2024/01/10/crawlway/#respond