The Embrace Came Before The Explanation

The house is quiet now, and the only sound left is the argument in your head. You are rehearsing the speech.

Polishing the apology you think you owe for taking up space, for being difficult, for simply existing. You practice the words until they sound like penance.

But listen — the light does not ask for your defense. It never demanded a reason for you to be here.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off, covered in the filth of his own mistakes. The son had a whole speech prepared about how he was unworthy.

He practiced it all the way down the road. But the father did not wait for the performance.

He ran. Before the first word of the apology could be spoken, he threw his arms around him.

The embrace came before the explanation. The welcome came before the cleanup.

You are tired because you are carrying a burden the light never asked you to lift. You do not need to justify your breath tonight.

The darkness has not overcome the fact that you are here. Put the speech down.

You are already held.