The Body Remembers
a fire burns with a black background
By Shana Schmoyer
The body remembers.
The body reminds.
It remembers the fire inside.
Oh, how everything had to be kept inside.
The need to release the flame.
The body remembers the slap, the sting, the shame.
The shock, isolation, and the release of pain.
The body remembers the ache for acceptance and love.
It remembers touch as agony. Love as loneliness.
It remembers a broken trust by thrust.
It remembers the silent prayers as tears rolled off each cheek.
It remembers the silent cries, loud cries, whole body cries - alone.
It remembers objectification, subjectification, dismissiveness, isolation, sadness.
The body remembers the destruction created by food, by pills, by agony. It remembers how
silent the mouth was and how loud the torment remained.
It remembers.
The body remembers and the body defies.
Wreaks havoc on the insides.
Always inside.
The fire burns and takes. Starts below the heart. It takes away the need of a mother’s disdain.
The need of a father’s neglect. The need of a sibling’s disillusion. The fire gives pain so the
body can remember.
The flame needs to burn
and burn
and burn.
The world moves on and the flame collapses you in.
Shana Schmoyer is a writer, trauma survivor; and lives with an autoimmune disease typically known to come from traumatic childhood experiences.