What Remains Hidden

I am grateful for what remains hidden.~Thomas Huebl

Where does trauma preside?
Holed up in a juvenile place

unreachable, yet glimpsed years later
alive and scolding like this green

heron’s brief flight across
the morning lake.

Always present
in a flesh that differs

from its intrepid sister
bravely forging ahead.

Like a forgotten base camp
the avalanche surely sealing it in

so the path is only
memory and faulty. We weave

stories and mourn, even as we
hitch it to our yoke

drag along the hidden pieces
emerging, surprise, who knows where.

Inspired by: Differ, Intrepid, Juvenile, Glimpse and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt to start the post with “where” and write whatever comes to you in stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write. (I’m obviously applying for the bonus points if you end your post with “where” too.)

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Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

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