Grounding

I tell you to ground yourself,

I say to be where your body is.

I hold you and do my best to help,

I remind you to focus on your senses.

But the ground falls beneath your feet,

and your body feels far away.

I work to keep you with me.

I struggle for you to stay.

I say make your lists baby,

as I silently make mine.

Five things I can see…

The way your entire expression changed.

The life and light leave your face.

The eerie emptiness of your gaze.

The stark shift in how your brow hangs.

The dark wideness when your pupils dilate.

Four things I can touch…

Your leg as I attempt to hold it still and steady.

Your cheek as I work to wipe away the tears.

Your back as I rub and pat rhythmically.

Your hands as I try to untie your laced and fidgety fingers.

Three things I can hear…

Your soft but soul shattering sob.

Your trembling lips making muffled mumbles.

My voice trying to soothe us both.

Two things I can smell…

Our laundry detergent as I kiss your shoulder.

The oil blend coming from the diffuser.

One thing I can taste

The coffee I'm drinking to be able to stay awake.

I say I know is hard to think about grounding when you feel like you'e drowning

I tell you to stay strong and keep fighting so brave.

I will hold you as an anchor holds a ship in a storm, but it is you who must endure the waves.