Becoming Whole

There comes a time when you stop trying to go back because you realize the person you were before no longer exists.

You’ve shed pieces of yourself along the way: in heartbreaks, in disappointments, and in all the quiet goodbyes life never warned you about.

And yet, something inside you begins again.

This poem is about the slow return to yourself after you’ve been scattered.

The Breaking

Wholeness doesn’t come from never breaking.

It comes from breaking,

and still choosing to stand.

You lose yourself in small ways —

in the people you tried to save,

in the love you gave away too freely,

in the silences you mistook for peace.

But every crack you carry

is an opening for light.

Sometimes it’s in falling apart

that you finally learn

how to hold yourself.

The Empty Space

There’s a strange quiet after loss —

when you no longer recognize your own reflection.

You search for the version of you

that laughed without thinking,

that believed without fear.

But she’s gone —

and maybe that’s okay.

Because the emptiness she left behind

is not a void;

it’s room to grow.

The Gathering

Becoming whole again

isn’t about finding every missing piece.

It’s about building new ones

with what’s left.

You learn to love differently.

You trust slower,

but deeper.

You start listening to your heart —

not the noise around it.

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”— Rumi

Every healed wound becomes a doorway

back to yourself.

The Becoming

You stop chasing who you were

and start honoring who you’re becoming.

You find beauty in the quiet.

You learn that strength isn’t loud —

it’s steady.

It’s the soft courage

of showing up again

after losing yourself.

Becoming whole

isn’t a return.

It’s a rebirth.

Thank you for reading. May you never forget that even when you feel incomplete, you are already enough—beautifully, imperfectly whole.