The Body Keeps The Score

I was told once
That the way my body
Involuntarily felt
It simply wasn't allowed to feel.

That it was nothing short of morally wrong
To have anxiety rush through my bones.
To have my sinews stretch
With unease
At the thought of proximity.

All the while my mind
Trying to convince
Every inch of this human morsel
That it would be okay.

And when I said
"This. This is how it is.
And it's something I can't control,"
I was shamed.
Invalidated.
Blamed.
For the very thing that I did not do to myself.

I have come to acknowledge
That the body keeps the score.
It is an honest portrayal,
Holds a strong memory,
For the wrong it has experienced.
A safety net for future torment.
Future trauma.
Future violation.

And now,
I turn to my body
And I say:

Thank you.
Thank you for reminding me that I am safe living in you.

Thank you
For holding me accountable.

Thank you
For the gentle nudge
Or the spiralling awareness
Of danger.

Thank you
For the reminder
That I do not need to step
Back into that space.

Thank you
For the trumpeting sound that plays,
With lyrics:
"Your body is the temple of God."