The Light That Holds You Both

The house is quiet now, but inside you, the air is thin and sharp. You are holding your child, and for a terrifying second, the thought of snapping feels like a physical weight in your hands.

You are afraid of your own shadow. You are afraid of the darkness rising up to meet you.

But listen — the light that lives in you is greater than the fear that is shaking you right now. It does not leave when you are exhausted.

It does not vanish when you feel broken. There is a peace in the room that is not yours, and it is holding both of you together even when you cannot hold yourselves.

You are not your worst thought. You are the light that sees the thought and refuses to become it.