Light Sitting With You In Silence

The house is finally quiet, but the silence feels heavy with the words your child didn't say. You saw the mask slip—the quick 'I'm fine' that was really a shield to keep the peace, to stop the worry in your eyes.

In the dark, that lie feels like a wall you cannot climb. But the light does not demand you tear it down tonight.

It simply sits with you in the unfinished conversation. There is a love inside that room that is greater than the fear making them hide.

It knows the truth before it is spoken, and it is not afraid of the silence. The peace you want for them is not something they have to perform for you to keep.

It is already there, waiting under the lie, patient as the dawn.