missing home

nestled into my bed,
bare skin on the sheets,
i am no longer fighting fight or flight,
no longer wrestling myself to sleep.

the beginners awkwardness has faded away,
and i am relieved.

recalling those early days,
after the rupture, the fleeing, the abandonment,
i remember wondering when,
if ever,
i might feel safe.

well-meaning healers tell you
your traumatized body might fear safety;
it planted this fear in my head that i might
miss it when it arrived.

i have not.

i have settled into the home of my body.

we are like long-separated friends,
brought together after enough change
to clear out the air of grudge between them.

me and myself are kin,
whether again
or for the first time,
i know now
i never could have missed this home

more than i did when i had forgotten her.

she is warm,
and soft,
and always,
always
here
with me.