Aloud

A Thought, a Poem

Sometimes the first act of healing
is admitting the thing you fear has a name.

by jlynn

Naming the thing —
not just identifying it.
Name it.
Aloud.
In a space someone else will hear.

Knowing it, feeling it —
that’s private.
It lives inside you, untested.
But naming it outside yourself —
aloud —
that’s the turn.

Guilt.
Shame.
Embarrassment.
Anger.
Joy.
Love.
Hate.
Regret.

Feeling is solitary.
Selfish, maybe.
But naming shares it.
Acknowledges it.

Acknowledge the power
it holds over you.
That’s worth sharing.
That’s what breaks the lie.

Let it loose —
outside your head —
where it can shape, form,
be seen.
Met face to face.
In a new light.
A true light.

That disease … that unease …
that suffocation.
You cannot breathe
until you name it.
But say it true.
Aloud.

You cannot be held accountable
inside your head.
Accountability is not a gentle dance;
it’s a disciplined march —
toward treatment.

Not all things are curable,
but most can be carried —
once visible,
in the open,
for all to see.

Lacking empathy,
nothing is treatable.

That thing that haunts you —
that keeps you near the edge —
free it.
Share it.
With the one who knows.

The one who will hear
the name.
The name of the thing
that haunts you.

Speak it.
Before it devours you.
Because it will.
The unnamed must devour.

You have a choice.
You always have.

Inside,
you know this.
The abyss has room only
for the unnamed.

Do you ever notice yourself avoiding what you most want to name?

It’s in the stars.