Your Silence Is Not A Wall

The house is quiet now, and the silence feels heavy enough to break something. You are lying still, terrified that your stillness looks like coldness to the ones who love you.

You worry that because you have no words left, they will think you have no love left. But the light does not speak to prove it is present.

It simply shines. There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off.

He did not wait for a speech. He ran.

Before the apology, before the explanation — he ran. Your silence is not a wall.

It is the space where the light is doing its deepest work. The people who need you do not need your performance.

They need your presence. And you are here.

You are here, and that is enough.