A poem about Trauma: reflecting on ideas of being held.

I have been reflecting on the idea of being held, what it means to me, how I interpret it. Free-writing is my favorite way to express myself, especially with poetry. I wrote this poem and I loved it so much that I decided to share it. Maybe it needs to be read by someone today? Maybe there is a person out there who feels fear when they are touched, or hugged, or embraced. Maybe someone out there needs to know that, with time, they will feel comfortable being held again.

This poem is about my husband, how he responds to my PTSD, and how I allow myself to heal through being held by him. He supports me emotionally and physically. He knows when to hold me and when to let go, leaving space between us as I navigate my past trauma. This is love.

---

I hold her

Onto her I will hold

If she lets me

Forever

But she doesnt

She tenses her body as if to escape

Like it remembers a monster

That grabbed her and held her

In a forceful embrace

She runs from my breathe

My touch, my praise

My Angel afraid to look upon my face

With her eyes in a glaze

She turns away

And tears start to appear

Droplets on her cheeks

Shuddering In fear

And so my hands, let go

I let her lean away

She pulls up the blanket,

Over her head

And whimpers alone

While I carefully tread

The space between us

Getting smaller

Instead

Of the small space growing

she comes closer

And led

My fingers into hers

Intertwined

Like thread

That holds together this quilt

Over her head

Over my head

patches of healing

Feeling

Sealing the wound

Of dread

I hold her

Sleeping, in our bed.

---

I hope you enjoyed this poem! There will probably be more to come.

Your friend,

Spencer