recovery

This rest is a little bug

that I nurture with the soft meat of my inner elbow and cheeks. 

I hold on lightly while gripping like a beast. 

I am the charge forward when the ball has stopped. 

I am the rain while the lightning soaks the earth fully and completely;

The residue of complex trauma. 

Do I feel grounded? 

While I am looking away,

I am eaten alive.