Seeds Are Meant To Be Planted

The afternoon sun is bright, and you are working hard to keep the shadows at bay. You swallow the new truth rising in your throat because you believe your silence is the glue holding your family together.

You think if you speak, the old peace will shatter. But peace built on a buried truth is not peace — it is a performance.

And you are exhausted from acting. There was a moment in a garden, long ago, when the light itself fell on its face and begged for the cup to pass.

It did not stay silent to keep the sky from falling. It spoke its terror, and the world did not end.

The truth you are hiding is not a weapon. It is a seed.

And seeds are meant to be planted, not swallowed. If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you.

The light does not need your silence to survive. It needs your voice.