The Light That Survives The Night

The day is ending, and the quiet brings back the weight of what was done to you without your consent. It feels like a stain that no amount of washing can remove, a story written on your skin by someone else's hand.

But listen — the light that lives inside you was there before the touch, and it remains untouched by the violation. It cannot be broken, earned, or lost.

There is a name written on a white stone, known only to you and to God, that no one else can read. Not the one who hurt you.

Not even the voice in your own head that repeats the shame. That secret name is your true identity, and it is safe.

The darkness of this night is real, but it does not get to write the final chapter of who you are. You are not what was done to you; you are the light that survives it.