The Light Meets You While Trembling

The house is quiet now, and the day has settled into its corners. You are safe here, behind the locked door, yet your hands will not stop shaking.

It feels like a betrayal to tremble when the storm has passed — as if your body is lying about the peace you supposedly have. But the light does not demand that you be steady before it stays.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He ran.

Before the apology, before the speech — he ran. He did not wait for the boy to stop shaking.

He did not wait for the dust to settle. He met the trembling with arms wide open.

Your shaking is not a sign that the light has left. It is simply the echo of the battle your soul just fought.

The light is not afraid of your tremors. It sits with you in them.

You are safe enough to fall apart.