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Trauma (poem)

By Gregory Ross

Suspended before time,
before primal,
in a realm before life,

I rise out of a dark deeper
than the absence of light,
colder than outer space.

Vaguely coming to
consciousness,
scarcely understanding
substance, light and heat,
I slowly remember body,
recollection rekindling
comprehension:

I AM ALIVE.

I open my eyes.
The void illuminates.
My skin feels heat.
I am cold and dark within,
a residue of my encounter
with death but,
alive.