How do you balance
being broken and whole?
~     ~     ~     ~     ~
You spend years,
a decade in turmoil.
The tornado is here,
it’s pulling you where it pleases.
You flail in the wind,
a rag doll torn to pieces.
It pulls you along with it,
months, years pass with no end in sight.
And as sudden as it began,
it ends.
Leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.
~     ~     ~     ~     ~
You begin to rebuild.
The process is slow.
The tape, glue, adhesives
struggling to hold the fragments.
Your new form likened to that of a newborn,
malleable, capable of intentional design.
Then, they harden.
You no longer worry about the inevitable collapse.
You get stronger,
knowing your past,
but hopeful for the future.
~     ~     ~     ~     ~
Most days, it’s smooth sailing.
Clear skies.
Not a worry in the world and sometimes,
you don’t even think about your past.
But on occasion,
the skies darken.
The tornado emerges to whip you ’round,
each time breaking you a little less.
~     ~     ~     ~     ~
Even if you become immune,
the storm failing to break you,
the storm will come.
Its inevitable reminder of what it can do.
What it has done.
A reminder that you are both broken and whole.
~     ~     ~     ~     ~

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