Held Even in the Withdrawal

The afternoon stretches out, long and flat, and suddenly your hands freeze mid-reach. You remember the last time you offered something of yourself, and the other person pulled away.

So you stop. You let your arms hang heavy at your sides, convinced that stillness is safer than the sting of rejection.

But the light does not require you to stretch further than you can. It is not waiting for you to force the motion.

It is already in the tension of the pause. There is a presence that knows the exact weight of your hesitation.

It does not shame you for the freeze. It sits with you in the middle of the day, right where your hands have stopped.

You do not have to complete the reach today. Just knowing that you are held even in the withdrawal is enough.