Hello trauma, here you are again, greeting me as soon as eager morning consciousness enters the light, with comfort of sleep brutally stripped back. How can I grow, your heavy dark clouds always present? It’s almost as if you lay in wait for this first morning moment to pounce, unannounced, grabbing me before natural joy manifests, before I summon this deepest happiness that also dwells constantly inside me Like a bully you push to the front, seeking to dominate the coming hours with you taking precedence, like ivy seeking to cling and smother. This deeper power, of love, wisdom one that knows you are a nothing, a memory, a neural pathway that has got stuck nothing more than that, I shall not let you grow today. I shall water carefully, grow only the joyful seedlings in my garden, explore the buds that have emerged. This glorious fresh spring day shines forth, beckoning.
Will I crumble into dust If I dismount the horse of fear, Depart the wild hunt of insanity Take control of my mind, emotions, life. But who is the controller? It shape shifts, sometimes strong, fiercely demonic, crazy wild, Often it cowers, over-whelmed by all. Thunder bullies my nights, banishing all respite of sleep, rampaging through the dark hours of wakefulness, leaving me exhausted for the restoration of the light. Oh that I were a wolf child running free and fearless through night forest, alive by moon, eyes piercing darkness welcoming it’s caul of concealment A fragile girl lies curled in pools, her own blood, endless seeping wounds that cannot heal, pecked at incessantly, the two ravens of thought and memory, persecutors of those who would seek peace. Moonstones, misted solidified tears shed alone at night Reflecting blue, grey, white, moods of shadow and light dancing on my face. Whatever I am given I have learned not to trust, Your motives, are they for me, or your own edification? You cannot buy me, I am priceless, too fragile to own, too fierce. I look timid, soft spoken, pliable to your demands, yet I will turn, a fire breathing dragon defending my fears and myself, will I ever know love? a flow of give and take, of acceptance and compassion?
Published 2022 in Canadian mental health journey quarterly, Open Minds and in Love and Chocolate
Sylvia Clare is a memoirist and poet whose themes are based on the natural world, mindfulness and human relationships and emotions. She lives with her husband in a small village on a small island and writes as a passion, almost as much of a passion as her gardening and beekeeping. She also spends time swimming on the local beaches all year round and is determined not to lose her marbles as she gets older. The idea of not being active and creative is her only real fear in life. Life is her inspiration, her own and those of other people. Nowadays she has chosen to mostly self-publish so she can present her writing on her own terms. Poetry reading is my favourite activity first thing in the morning, shared with her husband and over that first wonderful mug of tea. She is always on the look-out for new poets.