Unbecoming

I grieved

not the end,

but the unbecoming of me.

Love unraveled,

trust thinned to air,

belief scattered like dust in rain.

Nothing was mine to hold,

and yet,

I stood

breathing through the spin,

learning the stillness in surrender.

What was lost

was not my wholeness

only the version of me

that forgot I could begin again.

Now,

I walk the quiet road,

toughened by consequence,

softened by grace,

becoming

again.