With two words you have unmade me.
All my armor is stripped away,
my defenses lay at my feet.
You see me.
I would, I could… if I had any agency of my own.
But I am helpless.
As raw as the wounded child I am
at first I cannot breathe.
The past suffocates and
I struggle to draw in air.
Then my shattered senses make out your embrace.
You hold me as the storm rages.
You are the oak to my ivy, the shore to my wild oceans.
My haven. My husband.
You whisper,
“You’re safe. You’re safe.”