The Breaking and Becoming

By: Nathan Fletcher

Have you ever longed to weep so deeply

your soul unravels in the tears

to scream, to claw at the empty air,

grasping for something, anything,

as shadows slip through your clenched fists?

Have you stood in that suffocating night,

your heart a shattered glass,

wondering how it could possibly break again?

And still, it breaks.

 

Grief whispers that nothing will ever be whole again.

Memories ache like bruises you can’t stop pressing.

How many times have I begged time to turn backward

to rewrite what I cannot, to mend the wounds

I never meant to make?

Oh, how I’ve carried this guilt dragging it behind me,

a weight bound to my very breath.

 

But am I alone? Or are you here too,

wandering this same darkness?

Tell me have you reached the end,

where strength dissolves, where surrender

is the only prayer left on your lips?

I collapsed here, broken beyond repair,

unable to stand, unable to fight

and it felt like the end.

 

Then came the touch.

A hand, gentle, on my shoulder.

Who are you? Why have you come for me?

A light, not of this world seen only

with the eyes of a heart laid bare.

A voice, ancient as the dawn,

rises within me like a quiet storm:

I am…. here.

 

What do I do with this? I tried!

I gave everything I had!

I never wanted my life to spill over,

to hurt the ones I loved most!

I was doing my best… but it wasn’t enough!

Everything I cherish is gone.

Oh God, I am so sorry. I am sorry for it all!

 

And yet something begins to stir.

Grace, like the softest whisper in the wind,

finds its way through the cracks.

I feel it even though I can’t understand it.

Why me? I ask. Why now?

But I know this truth too:

I cannot carry this any longer.

 

 

I feel my heart resist

its old walls clinging to sorrow like armor.

But slowly, painfully, I begin to let go.

And in that small release,

a flicker of relief sparks to life.

It’s little, but little is much

and gratitude rises like the first breath

after drowning.

 

You are forgiven, the voice says,

echoing deep within.

You only need to forgive yourself.

Of course, you did your best.

 

I fall to my knees, sobbing.

But how do I fix this? How do I make it right?

The voice answers, steady as the stars:

You cannot.

But behold I make all things new.

Come. I will lead you.

 

And somehow, I stand.

The hand on my shoulder fades,

the voice grows silent,

but the presence remains

the Ancient, guiding me forward

into a light I cannot yet fully see.

The past trails behind me, heavy,

but I know now I must let it go.

Take your time, be patient, the voice whispers,

We’ll wait here together, just long enough

to honor what was but you cannot stay here.

 

So I release it

the guilt, the sorrow, the need to undo.

I forgive myself. I forgive others.

And in that letting go,

grace takes root where shame once lived.

 

I stand again

not as I was, but as I am becoming.

Something has shifted.

The weight is lighter. The path is clearer.

And though the ache still lingers,

I know it now as a friend, not a chain.

 

I move forward, step by step,

guided by a light I do not yet understand.

And with every step, something is changing

I am changing.

 

This is not the end.

This is the beginning.