You Are Not A Disturbance To Peace

The house is quiet now, and you are holding your breath so you don't disturb the fragile peace you think you barely deserve. You lie perfectly still, terrified that any movement will shatter the silence and reveal how unworthy you are of this rest.

But the light does not require your stillness to love you—it is already present in the very air you are afraid to exhale. You are not a disturbance to be managed; you are the one the light came to find, even in your deepest exhaustion.

The peace you are trying so hard to protect was never dependent on your performance or your silence. It was given to you before you ever drew a breath tonight.

You can move. You can breathe.

You can take up space. The peace will not break; it will hold you.