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Fluidity

Trauma

By Christina Barkeloo Published 3 years ago 1 min read

I waver, then stand still. Breathing in the whiteness. Praying for hope and motivation to move. I saw you yesterday and sensed you loved me and today… I’m alone and yearning. I saw my past, the trauma, the preacher and the punisher. I dreamt I was a boy and asked God if I still would fatefully have been hurt this way. Later in life I knew I would have. Memories melting, turning intrinsically violent, shadowing the truth. Still I love. Clumsily, carelessly caress the ones that hurt me. I’ve given my soul for the smallest gifts of light. As a child I silently asked my mother to protect my innocence, glimpsed briefly into the depths of her oceanic eyes. Pain. Spatial. Spiritual. To feel loved is penetrating…..priceless.

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