Your Root Is Light Not The Wound

The afternoon sun exposes the dust in the room, and sometimes it exposes the cracks in the foundation you thought was solid. It is a specific kind of exhaustion to realize the hands that were supposed to hold you were the ones that broke you.

The world expects you to keep working, to keep moving, to pretend the floor isn't shaking beneath your feet. But the light does not ask you to perform okayness while you are bleeding.

There is a truth that lives inside you, deeper than the betrayal, deeper than the damage. The Good came into your midst to the essence of every nature, in order to restore it to its root.

Your root is not the wound. Your root is not the failure of the one who should have protected you.

Your root is light, and it was there before the first blow landed. The damage is real, but it is not your origin.

You are not what was done to you. You are what remains when the dust settles.