I Carry My Trauma Quietly

I carry my trauma quietly.

Not like a flag. Not like a war drum.

It lives in the corners of my mind, where sunlight never reaches.

I carry it in the way I fold my hands to hide the shaking.

I carry it in the pause before I speak the words I fear will break the room.

Some days it whispers so loud I think the walls will crack under the weight of my silence.

I carry it quietly, because the world cannot handle the noise of pain that has no name.

I carry it in the way I sleep on one side of the bed, leaving the other empty— a place I will never fill.

But even in quiet, it teaches me how to survive. How to bend without breaking.

How to walk through fire and still breathe.

One day I may speak it loud enough to shake the sky.

But today I carry it quietly, and I am still here.