But the body doesn’t know that while it is preparing.
It responds to the message received.
The plans changing.
The uncertainty.
The sudden future arriving far too soon.
And when everything changes again — when the emergency disappears and life quietly returns to where it was — the nervous system doesn’t simply erase what it has already travelled through.
There can be relief without elation.
Calm without happiness.
A strange stillness where all that urgency used to be.
I wrote this poem from that place.
Not the crisis.
Not quite the aftermath.
Just the space between:
“Because a body, once it’s spun,
doesn’t just stop because you’re done.”
Too Soon, Then Not At All
— Frost ❄️
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