The Light Holds You While You Shake

The house is quiet now, but your body is still shaking underneath the sheets. You hold yourself perfectly rigid so the person beside you won't feel the tremor, pretending that silence means you are fine.

But the light does not need you to be still to be present with you. It knows the difference between the peace you perform and the storm you are enduring.

You came from the light, a drop sent to illuminate even this dark corner of the bed, and it has not abandoned you because you are trembling. The shaking is not a sign that the light has left; it is just the weight of the day finally catching up to you in the safety of the dark.

You do not have to stabilize yourself to be held. The tremor is real, but so is the hand that stays underneath you while you shake.