Before the freeze
I do remember the occurrence of terror and helplessness,
Announced by exhaustion and ignored pain.
Echoes of the past.
Oh no, not you! I only knew what you sounded like
But here you emerge with your face and body blinding me!
Now paralyzed, the only motion I manage is slipping.
Slipping off into the dark pits of childhood fears long avoided.
Doom.
I have realized that
And for years I have done so
Until it caught me by the throat.
The ice sometimes does break
When I somehow manage to spit fire from deep within;
The will to master…
And be of good help to my inner child.
Nobody’s coming to save you
Yet everyone — I mean, all versions of me — is headed towards you;
Sometimes they’ll be coming for you
Sometimes they’ll be rescuing you;
Sometimes we’ll be coming for you
Sometimes we’re too harsh to ourselves in dire need
Sometimes we’ll arrive to the rescue
And I would love for it to always be for salvation but never again at the same time…
For I do no longer wish to have to be saved from monsters like
Trauma and its nasty brats of children that keep bugging you and rob you of the present.
The freeze teaches
It grows your psychic muscles
And takes advantage of you if you lack resilience.
So keep melting the ice
With all your might
With all the love for yourself you have thought long gone.
© MFA.