The Light Sees Behind Your Mask

The afternoon sun is unforgiving. It exposes the dust motes dancing in the air and the cracks in the pavement you tried to ignore.

It is the hour of the mask, when you are forced to say 'I'm blessed' while your soul feels like a hollowed-out room. You replay the moment you said it, hating yourself for the lie, convinced that God has stepped out and left you alone in the performance.

But the light does not require your honesty to stay present. It was there in the silence behind your teeth.

It was there in the exhaustion you hid. You did not fool the light by pretending to be okay.

It saw the godless feeling and loved you through it anyway. The mask is heavy, but the face beneath it is already known.