It came to me like snails come to gardens: ready to consume,

Ooze with slime,

At first, I didn’t notice,

But then slowly over time,

Clothes became to big,

Hip bones stuck out,

But it was my eyes,

The dead look,

No life in them,

It was like I was without a soul,

Trauma is slow,

At least for me,

Trauma consumes everything you are,

Ripping and tearing,

Chewing and munching on body, mind and soul,

Once upon a time,

I let trauma consume me whole,

Allowed him to win,

But I won’t be plant that allows snails to consume me,

Not anymore,

I will be the fall foxglove,

Towering over plants,

Bright flowers and poisonous to eat,

Or poisonous to hurt,

I will never,

Let anyone or anything consume me whole again.