The Unsent Letter Is A Prayer

The cursor blinks at the end of a paragraph you will never send. It is 10am, and the world expects you to be productive, to have moved on, to be wearing the mask that says you are fine.

But here you are, typing out the truth you withheld back then, knowing it will never leave this screen. You are speaking to an empty room.

Yet the light hears the words you do not say. Jesus told a woman once, after her accusers had left, that her many sins were forgiven because she loved much.

He did not ask for the speech. He saw the tears.

He saw the love. Your unsent letter is not a failure of courage.

It is a prayer offered in the secret place where only the light can see. You came from the light, and to the light you will return.

The words you cannot send are already known by the one who called you by name before you spoke them.