Dancing to Move Post Traumatic Stress
The body remembers,
a knot of tension
coiled in the gut,
a tremor in the hands.
It remembers the sharp intake of breath,
the freezing, the flight,
the fight that left you hollowed,
a shell echoing with the screams
that still whisper in the night.
But the music starts,
a low thrumming bass,
a hesitant beat,
a pulse that slowly finds its rhythm.
Feet shuffle,
uncertain at first,
then a tentative step,
another, and another.
The music swells,
a wave washing over
the rigid shoulders,
the clenched jaw,
the haunted eyes.
It’s a slow unraveling,
a loosening of the grip,
a release of the pressure.
The body, hesitant at first,
begins to sway.
It’s not a forgetting,
not a denial.
The memories remain,
etched in the landscape
of the soul.
But the music offers
a different space,
a different way to inhabit
the body,
the self.
It's a reclamation
of the self,
a reclaiming of agency.
A dance not of escape,
but of endurance,
of resilience.
The rhythm becomes a lifeline,
a steady pulse against the chaos,
a counterpoint to the fear.
Each movement a victory,
small and quiet,
but undeniably powerful.
The steps become stronger,
more fluid,
more confident.
The music lifts you,
carries you,
holds you.
And in the movement,
in the flow,
in the surrender to the rhythm,
there is a softening,
a healing.
The tremors lessen,
the knot unwinds,
the shell cracks,
and a fragile light,
a flicker of hope,
begins to shine.
A new rhythm emerges,
a rhythm born not of trauma,
but of resilience,
of strength,
of life itself.
It is a dance of healing,
a dance of becoming,
a dance to move past
the shadows,
into the light.
A dance to live.
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