The Light Waits For Your Trembling

The house is quiet now, but your body is still loud with the memory of earlier. Someone reached out to hold you, and you flinched.

You pulled back before their arms could close around you. And now, in the dark, the shame is replaying the moment on a loop.

You are angry at your own skin for remembering what it survived. You wonder if you are broken beyond repair.

But listen — the flinch was not a rejection of love. It was an old guard standing down too slowly.

The light does not demand that you stop trembling before it comes near. There was a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years, untouchable by law and by custom.

She did not walk up confidently. She crept through the crowd, terrified, and touched only the edge of a robe.

She expected to be pushed away. Instead, the light stopped and called her 'Daughter.' Your flinch is not a wall the light cannot cross.

It is simply the place where you need the most gentleness. The love that seeks you knows how to wait for your nervous system to catch up.

You do not have to force yourself to be brave tonight. Just stay here.

The light is not offended by your reflex. It is staying right beside you until the shaking stops.