Held When Human Arms Let Go

The arms that held you have opened. The warmth you finally allowed yourself to feel is now just air against your skin.

It confirms the lie you have whispered to yourself for years: that you are too broken to keep. That anyone who gets close enough to see the cracks will eventually pull away.

And now, in this deepest hour, the silence feels like a verdict. But listen.

The light does not measure its stay by how long a human can hold on. When the father saw his son coming home, he did not wait for the boy to clean himself up.

He ran. He threw his arms around him before the apology was even finished.

That embrace was not earned. It was given.

And when the human arms let go, the divine arms did not loosen their grip. They cannot.

The light that lives inside you was there before the touch, and it is there now in the absence. It was not dependent on their staying.

You are not too broken to be held. You are held by something that never lets go.