Poem: Heal the Trauma, Heal the Addiction

Beneath the craving, sharp and wild,
There sleeps a wounded inner child.
Not weak, not broken—just unheard,
A soul still aching for a word.

The bottle, needle, smoke, or pill
Are not the cure, but stand-in will—
A shield against the storm inside,
A place where pain and shame can hide.

But healing doesn’t come through flight,
Or drowning out the edge of night.
It starts in rooms where silence breaks,
And honesty is all it takes.

It walks with tears that fall like rain,
With naming loss, withholding pain.
With saying, This is what was done,
And I survived, but I’m not done.

It grows in sober, trembling days,
In learning gentler, kinder ways.
In reaching out instead of in,
In letting go, in choosing kin.

For trauma taught you how to cope,
But healing hands you back your hope.
And every scar, once wrapped in shame,
Becomes a map, a burning flame.

So trace it back, and tend the root—
No need for shame, no need to mute.
To heal the trauma is the key,
To set your bound addiction free.

You are not what you had to do.
You are the strength now pulling through.
And every breath, each step you take—
Is proof: you rise, you mend, you wake.

Thank-you for reading.

Much Love and Light,

Brenda Marie