Resilient Resistance Unconquerable

Every mundane moment hides a trap door, A song on the radio, a slammed screen door, The scent of jasmine floating on summer air— Each one a key unlocking memories I cannot bear. Coffee spills across the counter's white, And suddenly I'm back in that kitchen, that night, When everything familiar turned strange and wild, And safety shattered like a cup defiled. The sound of laughter down the office hall Pulls me back to moments when I felt so small, My hands begin to tremble, my breath grows tight, As present and past blur in harsh fluorescent light. A stranger's voice, three notes too deep, Sends shivers through my bones, makes my heart leap, Into that shadow-space where terror dwells, Where every gentle chime sounds like warning bells. But I am learning slowly, day by day, To ground myself when memories hold sway, To feel the earth beneath my restless feet, To count the breaths until my heart finds its beat. These triggers are not weakness, no— They're battle scars that taught me how to grow, Each flash of pain, each sudden racing thought, Reminds me of the strength with which I fought. So let the world spring its hidden snares, I'll meet them with the wisdom time declares: That healing isn't linear or neat, But in each trigger faced, I'm more complete.