The Light That Sits With You
The afternoon light is flat against the wall, and you are tracing a face on the screen that you can no longer call by name. You draft the message in the dark of your thumb, knowing the send button is a door that will not open.
The light sees the words you type and delete, the grief you carry in the silence of a room that feels too large for one person. It does not ask you to put the phone away or to stop missing them.
It sits with you in the ache, knowing that even this longing is a form of love that has nowhere else to go. You are not forgotten in this quiet desperation.
The one who sees you knows the weight of what you cannot say.
Drawing from
John 8:10-11, Gospel of Thomas 70
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