Love Waits for Your Trembling Hands
The evening gathers, and with it comes the shadow of your own hands freezing mid-reach. You remember the last time they pulled away, and so you stop before you even begin.
The air grows thick with the things you did not say, the touch you did not offer. But listen — there is a presence that does not flinch when you move.
It saw the hesitation and loved you anyway. The light is not afraid of your slow, trembling approach.
It is not waiting for you to be brave; it is waiting for you to be near. You do not have to finish the reach tonight.
Just let your hands rest, open and empty, in the dark. The distance between you and love is smaller than your fear.
Drawing from
Matthew 14:29-31, Gospel of Mary 5:4-5
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