Grief is not a prison, nor a chain,

it is a passage, a rite, a necessary flame,

and when it burns through, the heart remains-

not as ashes, but richer to have lived in its name.

The heart is a gateway, capable of transforming pain into something bearable, and sometimes even beautiful. But it is one of the first things that shuts off in response to trauma.

After experiencing acute or prolonged trauma, particularly in conditions like PTSD, the brain and body become locked in survival states…

I am a ship adrift on grim, turbulent waters, where each sound is thunder, each shadow a ghost. Memories are lightning, flashing bright and searing, leaving me blind and trembling.

I am a fractured mirror, reflecting pieces of a past I can’t escape. Each shard is sharp, cutting into my present, drawing blood from old wounds. Familiar places, faces, scents—they are the sirens of my mind, luring me back to places I don’t want to return.