It’s a blurry line really,
A delicate balancing act:
Holding you, holding me.
I’ve ignored you
And denied you.
Pretended you were someone else.
I had made it on my own.
A miraculous escape
From the abyss of memory.
But I was hollow,
A shell of a person.
Just an outside holding space
While you screamed to echoes.
You got my attention:
Migraines,
Panic attacks,
Nauseating anxiety.
Oh, hello in there!
Have you been there the whole time?!
I see you now.
Feel all the unfelt:
Pain,
Horror,
Loneliness.
“Welcome to her body,”
Guided the tears.
Past meets present.
She gave an invitation to grieve.
This is what healing looks like:
It’s balancing you from the past
Inside me in the present.
Because I am you,
And you are me.

