the scrawl of trauma

the scrawl of trauma, 

personally handwritten as reasonings, 

are an attempt at sentence structure.

the cryptology for a first-person audience

is felt more than read.

the senses are brutalized as written, 

post-injuries affecting the cursory style,

reading eyes, left in the aftermath, 

to assemble solutions that become legible.

there is scribble that shivers in cold or fright,

longhand that ventures with tears,

heartbeats measured in words, hard-pressed,

straight lines of intendedness

that wander and struggle, 

as if lost in the flashbacks, 

before they became written words,

there are the dotted i's that have lost their dot,

the scripts that turn into this print to go forward,

forget that there were ever any capitals intended.

at some point, it isn't word after word,

it's nouns that jump out off the pages

and verbs that curse 

to present feelings that linger.

at least none of this is as a suicide note.

timelines from occurrences have melted. 

the writing is almost a reenactment 

presenting in script figures, 

without the historical actions received in between.

I am almost there

but withheld by a difference in time.

now is not really the chaos of then,

but the feelings take me to there.

I am left here,

holding on to a page,

when my arms want to embrace

and to comfort beyond the impact

that this writing has come to present.

this, handwritten, is a process,

a trauma too richly revisited.

I have no takeaways 

that don't lead me to be closer,

to want to hold the hand 

that has dared to write,

to stare up that arm

and into those eyes 

waiting for someone to see.

met me where the ink of this blood

is deeply red and has its read.

there is strength gained in the write.

self-administered is search for a rightly so.

I have the eyes that have the want

to comfort and to hold,

to carry and help set free.

alone is the hand that has written

and I am the eyes that read.

we met in that way,

but carry on.

know me and feel me,

for my read sent your way

with healing and empathy forthcoming.

I am paging you

by another means.

may my energy meet up with you and yours.

feel uplifted from that then

to this now,

in recovery and revival.

healing is the release within your words.

I carry that page as you have written it

to give you a buoyancy within you,

that hand, yours, now in mine,

as that heart, yours, now heard.

the universe connects us.

be of this resounding, 

set forth from what has been written.

once again to find light in others' eyes 

coming into yours. . .