Your Body Remembers a War That Ended

The day is long, and your shoulders are tired from holding a weight that isn't there anymore. You are in the middle of the hours, where the routine feels heavy and the past feels close.

Someone reaches out to touch your arm, a gentle gesture meant to connect, and your whole body flinches. You brace for a blow that never came.

The muscles remember a war that ended years ago, tightening against a ghost while the present moment stands confused and hurt. But listen — the light that lives inside you was not formed in that violence.

It was there before the first strike, and it remains untouched by the memory of pain. Your flinch is real, but it is not the truth of who you are.

The truth is that you are safe now, even if your nerves haven't received the memo yet. God's love is not a sudden movement that startles you; it is the steady ground beneath your feet that refuses to shake.

You do not have to force your body to relax before you are ready. Just know that the hand reaching for you is not the hand that struck you.

The light is learning your new rhythm, one quiet breath at a time.