Dust
/This is a poem about something that bothers me in my living space, but that I constantly make the choice of leaving it as it is, until I have the energy to do it.
Sharing openly from the heart. Looking Trauma in the eye.
This is a poem about something that bothers me in my living space, but that I constantly make the choice of leaving it as it is, until I have the energy to do it.
This is a short poem about one of the many aspects of trauma recovery. Noticing things in the body, finding words to name them and describe them.
Read MoreWhen I can’t sleep, sometimes, I write poetry. This is what happens When Sleep Does Not Come.
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