The Crack Where The Light Gets Out

The afternoon asks its mundane questions, and you have learned to answer with a smooth, flat voice. But then someone looks closer.

They ask how you really are. And suddenly your voice cracks—a fissure in the performance you've been carrying since morning.

That crack is not a failure. It is the sound of the mask breaking.

We came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord. You do not need to glue the pieces back together.

The one who hears your broken voice does not turn away. He told a woman once, after her tears had washed his feet, that her many sins were forgiven because she loved much.

The crack let the love out. The light does not need your composure.

It needs your honesty. The voice that breaks is the one that finally tells the truth.