Stand Still, Then Rise

You came to me in silence,

Not broken — just tired.

Like something inside you

Had been carrying too much for too long.

You didn’t ask for saving.

You just sat beside me,

And for the first time,

You didn’t pretend to be strong.

*

Your hands told stories

Your mouth never could.

Small tremors.

Unfinished thoughts.

The kind of weight

People learn to hide

So well

They forget it’s there.

*

You asked me,

“Do you think I’ll ever feel like myself again?”

I didn’t answer right away.

Because the truth is—

You never left.

You just buried yourself

Under expectations

That was never yours to carry.

*

I saw it then.

Not in your words,

But in the way you looked away

When hope tried to reach you.

Something in you

Was still fighting—

Quietly.

Relentlessly.

*

You thought you were fading.

But I saw something else.

Not weakness.

Not failure.

Just a fire

Learning how to breathe again.

*

So listen carefully now—

You don’t need permission to begin again.

You don’t need to explain your healing

To people who never felt your breaking.

And you don’t need to rush

Just because the world is impatient.

*

Stand still if you must.

Fall apart if you need.

But when you rise—

Do it for yourself.

Not for applause.

Not for proof.

But because something inside you

Refused to disappear.

*

And when that moment comes—

You’ll understand this:

You were never meant to be held together

By anyone else.

You were meant to rebuild

In your own shape.

*

So don’t look back for who you were.

Don’t ask for directions.

And don’t wait for a sign.

You are it.

The beginning.

The path.

The reason.

*

Now go—

Not to escape,

Not to prove,

But to become.

********