My writing poetry is helped by trauma. I was a battered child and sexual abused by an older brother and mother is a drug-addicted and alcoholic home.
Physical therapy has unleashed memories and feelings that are unhealed from that time. Much of the work around these trauma have helped me, but obviously, much remains.
I was incapacitated by these feelings for several days, but eased up on physical therapy and doing inner work and slept, helping the dragon back into his cave.
This is a poem that I wrote a few days ago when I could do little other:
I tell myself it didn’t happen.
But I want to take the kitchen knife
And carve a thousand wounds
to let the light in and the blood out
pooling on the kitchen floor.
a silent witness.