Some memories feel third person, like the memories of childhood trauma. Like the body was there but the narrator stepped out of the room. This poem moves through the strange, disjointed grammar of survival, where identity thins, fragments, and slowly rebuilds back into a voice strong enough to stand inside its own sentence.
Posts tagged trauma
Survivor’s Guilt Trip |
Ungratitude & Stolen Valor
About 4 years ago, I survived two strokes. But I’m fine—on the outside. Sometimes this survival feels like a burden, a quiet accusation whispered over years, trauma tinnitus. This poem explores what it’s like to live after trauma that leaves no marks, my resistance to gratitude, and the ungrieved self I lost along the way.