Broken Whole
BelliranER
Broken Wing
If I could see you just once,
what would I say?
And if I could never see you,
would I prefer my end?
If I spread my wings
and let the wind carry me home,
will I find you —
or only the shape of my imagination?
If you could see me now,
just this once —
if you decide your heart is not only mine?
And if I take you into my arms,
letting you feel the wind —
would you still embrace me
with my broken wing?
I am fragile, cold.
Drowning, freezing —
I cannot hear your voice.
Miles underwater
you see me shining as gold.
Miles below the surface,
suddenly
I feel your hold.
If I spread my wings one more time —
will I be broken whole?
Will you be just mine?
If I spread my wings one more time —
will you still see
my shine?
The following text does not explain the work.
It reflects what shaped it.
Broken Whole holds the body as something damaged, limited, and still reaching.
The broken wing is not a metaphor for weakness. It is the condition of a body that can no longer move freely, yet still gathers what strength remains in order to love.
The poem does not ask whether love can save the figure. It asks whether love can still recognize him when the body has changed.
To spread the wings one more time is not an act of freedom. It is a final effort — a movement made from the last remaining physical strength, toward the one who still feels like home.
And within that effort lives the fear: that arrival may not mean acceptance.
That the body already broken by condition could be broken again by rejection.
Here, wholeness is not presented as healing. It becomes a question.
Can a person be physically broken and still be embraced as whole?
Can the light within remain visible when the body carrying it has fractured?
The work remains inside that question — suspended between devotion, fear, and the fragile hope of still being seen.