You Do Not Have to Disappear to Be Loved

The afternoon heat presses against the glass, heavy and still, while you add another layer to hide the shape of yourself from the air. You build a fortress of fabric so no contour can be seen, believing that if you disappear, you will be safe.

But the light does not need you to be invisible to love you. It knows the form you are trying to conceal, and it calls it good.

There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world—even the parts you have wrapped in shadow. You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord, and your origin has no shame.

The armor is heavy, and the sun is high, and you do not have to carry both. The light was there before the first layer was added, and it will be there when the last one falls away.