I meet the one I used to be
along the paths I’ve traveled through—
the heart that held its breath too long,
the hands that did what they could do.
I will not ask her why she stayed,
or why the road was hard to see.
She carried me through what she knew
toward who I’m learning now to be.
I offer her the gentleness
I once believed she had to earn.
She was not lost along the way—
she was becoming, turn by turn.
The Space Between Memory and Becoming · Poem II
A moment of gentleness
Pause here.
What kindness would you offer the self you used to be? Let that gentleness meet you where you are today.
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