Before the world became a sentence, Before the cortex took the stand, A mammal searched the dark for someone: "Are you near? Will you understand?" CARE kept vigil by the fire. SEEKING looked for open doors. PANIC and GRIEF rang bells for someone Who was there the day before. Eyes catch movement, head turns after; The midbrain helps locate the scene. The Where-Self asks, "Where am I now?" Before the story knows what it means. Need may set the eyes to searching, And searching tells us what is near. But when the answer is no answer, The body's instruments tune to fear. Not a verdict. Not a weakness. Not a choice to overfeel. When protection goes unanswered, Even silence can feel real. The alarm is not the enemy, Though it wakes the house at night. It learned to keep the watch alone When no one came to hold the light. Shock may arrive before the story, Defense before the why. What looks like a broken system May be trying to survive. What if shelter was the weather? What if comfort carried fear? When the one you need for safety Is the storm that won't steer clear? Locus Coerulues raises alertness, Noradrenaline shifts the gain. PAG coordinates defenses, Modulates the voice of pain. Insula reads the inner weather; Cingulate weighs the urgent call. The stress axis takes a slower route: A memo after lightning's fall. Superior colliculus: Orient toward the scene. Locus coeruleus: Sharpen what is seen. Periaqueductal gray: Defense, distress and pain. Insula: Signals rising from within. Anterior cingulate: Conflict, salience, need. Autonomic circuits: Mobilize or slow the speed. HPA axis: Hormones join the strain. No single little king Inside the brain. Fight draws lines in shaking sand: "Enough. I need my hands." Flight sees exits in the darkness And runs toward safer land. Freeze holds current in the wiring While the brakes refuse to lift: Silent thunder, eyes wide open, Caught between the move and if. Attachment cries, "Please find me," Even when the arms aren't kind. Appeasement studies every eyebrow, Leaves its own forecast behind. Submit and collapse say, "Nothing's working. Save what's left; turn down the flame." Six ways survival may respond, Not six new reasons for blame. Fight, flight, freeze. Reach, please, recede. When no move brings protection, The system changes speed. The alarm is not the enemy; It can't tell now from then. A watchman on the night shift Keeps clocking in again. Control puts on a tailored coat: "I'll never need again." Perfection mans the watchtower; Self-reliance lets no one in. Appeasing reads the smallest eyebrow, Calls surrender being good. "Your peace matters more than my knowing," When my own voice never could. No nucleus for loyalty, No gland that makes us please. These are patterns shaped by history, Not a lifelong destiny. Jaw, neck, shoulders, ribs and belly Can tighten long past threat. A push withheld, a cry gone quiet, A reaching never met. Some bodies tremble, swallow hard, Feel faint or short of air. Not every ache is trauma's echo, But trauma may play a part there. In overdrive, sensations scatter; In shutdown, words may fail. Dissociation changes access To the pieces of a tale. No single symptom proves a cause, No muscle tells it all. Attention must be curious, Not another harsh command. "Can you just let go?" sounds easy To a guard who never sleeps. You cannot order locks to open By shaming what they keep. Perhaps we start with noticing The present, inch by inch: A turning head, a steadier bearing, Some room around the flinch. The alarm is not the enemy, But it need not run the show. Fight can turn into a boundary; Flight can choose when it will go. Freeze can soften into stillness; Reaching may be met halfway. Appeasing can make room for kindness Without giving self away. Rest can happen without vanishing; Grief can have a place to land. We don't have to fire old defenses. We can put choice back in our hands. Before the story found a sentence, Before the body knew its name, Somebody needed somebody. You cannot order locks to open By shaming what they keep. Perhaps we start with noticing The present, inch by inch: A turning head, a steadier bearing, Some room around the flinch. The alarm is not the enemy, But it need not run the show. Fight can turn into a boundary; Flight can choose when it will go. Freeze can soften into stillness; Reaching may be met halfway. Appeasing can make room for kindness Without giving self away. Rest can happen without vanishing; Grief can have a place to land. We don't have to fire old defenses. We can put choice back in our hands.
