The Light Shines Through Your Cracks

The house is quiet now, and the hand reaching for yours feels like a threat. You pull away because you are convinced that if they saw the chaos inside—the storm you hide behind your skin—they would recoil in disgust.

But listen. The light that lives in you is not a secret you must keep; it is the very thing that makes you knowable.

There is a love that does not flinch at the mess, a love that ran toward the son while he was still covered in filth and shame. That same love is not afraid of your darkness; it is the only thing strong enough to hold it.

You are not too broken to be touched. You are the place where the light shines brightest precisely because the cracks are visible.

The one who knows you completely is the one who will not let go.