The Light That Sees The Crack

The house is holding its breath. You are standing in the dark, staring at the spot where your hand met the wall, terrified that the crack in the plaster is now a crack in their sense of safety.

The silence feels heavy, like it is waiting for you to break again. But listen — the darkness has not overcome the light that lives in this room.

It shines in the dark, and the dark has not put it out. The light was there before the slam.

It is there now, in the quiet, in the regret, in the trembling of your hands. It cannot be broken by your anger.

It cannot be lost in your shame. You are not the crack.

You are the light that sees the crack and refuses to let it define the home. The night is deep, but the light is deeper.

You are still here. And so is the love that holds you all.