The Light Has Already Run To You

The afternoon stretches out, long and gray, filled with the quiet panic of a door that will never open. You are still waiting for words that will never be spoken, an apology that is not coming.

The light does not force the other person to speak; it only waits with you in this heavy, ordinary hour. There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off — he did not wait for the speech, he ran before the apology could even begin.

The light has already run to you. It does not need the other person to make things right for you to be held.

You are not defined by the silence of another, but by the presence of the light inside you right now. The waiting is over because the love you sought was already within you all along.