I Carry My Trauma Quietly

I carry my trauma quietly.

Not like a flag.
Not like a war drum.

It lives
in the corners
of my mind,
where sunlight
never reaches.

I carry it
in the way
I fold my hands
to hide the shaking.

I carry it
in the pause
before I speak
the words I fear
will break the room.

Some days
it whispers so loud
I think
the walls
will crack
under the weight
of my silence.

I carry it quietly,
because the world
cannot handle
the noise of pain
that has no name.

I carry it
in the way I sleep
on one side of the bed,
leaving the other
empty—
a place I will never fill.

But even in quiet,
it teaches me
how to survive.
How to bend
without breaking.

How to walk
through fire
and still breathe.

One day
I may speak it
loud enough
to shake the sky.

But today
I carry it quietly,
and I am still
here.