Boxed

Walking out of hospital.

A successful clinic.

Away from a place of care,

And into the path of an old foe.

There she stood.

This person who held such power.

Who abused this power.

Who abused me.

Smiling and small.

The cuts and snipes still rang out

Slashes at my ankles

On the street, in the wild.

She smelled different.

Old.

Clean, but musty

Her face, stretched.

The sinister eyes were still quick,

Assessing

Sizing me up.

Big breaths into my diaphragm

Such anger and unrest,

A void of compassion,

The contrast from my clinic, whiplash-fast

How to disentangle.

Her searching look, needling,

No bait taken,

She half scuttles, half walks

Off to find new prey

It took me a while to self soothe after this encounter. The years of accumulated trauma were thrust back into my face.

I felt the old familiar box, trying to usher me back inside. But I have grown too much for its confines.