There was a time when wonder felt easy,
when awe lived in the edges of everything,
when I noticed the small miracles without trying.
All of that existed before trauma complicated the world.
I still remember what awe used to be.
Trauma turns surprise into survival,
and numbness replaces wonder.
Everything feels muted, colors dimmed,
the world too loud and too quiet at the same time.
Awe becomes a memory just out of reach.
But then it returns, in small ways first.
A quiet morning with a breath that comes easier.
A color brighter than it was yesterday.
A moment where my chest loosens,
and I feel like I can finally breathe again.
A sunset that brings a real smile.
Awe doesn’t shout.
It doesn’t break down the door.
It comes back in whispers.
It wakes the soul gently,
teaching us, slowly, that feeling is safe again.
Each moment adds to the next.
Awe becomes a kind of wealth, building quietly.
Proof that healing is happening,
that trauma didn’t blind me completely.
I can see again.
I can feel again.
Awe, didn’t save me,
but it reminded me I was still here.
Thank you for this smile 🩷.