Learning Through Collapse

Being safe in my body is like hitting rock bottom. Hollow, empty, raw, home. It is a collapse that brings me back to center. One that brushes softly past each old story, intuition, behavior, on the way down just so I can feel them. Know they are there, so that I can understand the scaffolding of survival before taring it down.

There is sharp shine and steel that has served me well. There is concrete poured through organs that have gone un-held, untended. There is blood pooled deep sweet behind heavy curtains that can, but never have been, drawn back. I did not know these things. These locations of me.

So being safe in my body is like shattering. Because the shards will sing before incineration. They will thank me for housing the whole of them and then the slivers will embed themselves in the lining of me. They will be crystal insulation that adds brilliance after release.