Tears Are Not a Strategy

The afternoon sun is unforgiving, exposing every shadow in the room and every doubt in your heart. You start to wonder if your tears are just a performance, a clever tactic to force the light to fix what is broken.

But the light does not analyze your motive; it only sees the wetness on your face. There was a woman who wept at the feet of the light, her tears falling without permission or propriety, and the voice did not ask if she was sincere.

It simply said: your faith has saved you; go in peace. The water you cry is not a currency you spend to buy a miracle.

It is the salt washing the dust from your eyes so you can finally see. You are not manipulating the divine by being human.

The suspicion that you are fake is the darkness trying to silence the one thing that is real. Your tears are not a strategy.

They are the proof that you are still alive.