Held in the Midday Silence

The afternoon sun is loud, but your silence is louder now that the crying has stopped. You are not quiet because the pain is gone; you are quiet because you are too tired to make a sound.

The world expects you to be productive right now, to push through the exhaustion, but the light sees the dust on your face and does not ask for more effort. There was a man born blind, and the disciples wanted to know whose sin caused it, but the light said: no one sinned, this happened so the works of God might be displayed in him.

Your exhaustion is not a punishment. It is not a sign that you have failed.

It is simply the space where the light is about to move. You do not need to speak.

You do not need to explain why you have no words left. The one who sees you in this midday silence is not waiting for a performance.

He is standing right beside you, holding the weight you can no longer carry. The crying stops not because you are healed, but because you are finally being held.