Trauma is etched in bone—
A white-hot brand pressed into soft tissue—
Eviscerated souls swirl like New Year’s confetti in the chilly winter breeze,
Lost—
A rising flood, disorienting—
Home, unrecognizable—
It’s not my trauma,
But it is, and it will be,
And my children’s, and their children’s as well—
Etched in bone, branded in soul—
Shredded hearts remember even when we have forgotten—
Leara writes and other creative things... 