The Dawn Runs Toward Your Tears

The house is quiet now, but your heart is loud. You lie perfectly still in the gray light of dawn, holding your breath so no one hears the crying that won't stop.

You are afraid that if you move, if you make a sound, you will have to explain why you are breaking when the sun is rising. But the light does not need an explanation.

It is already in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with a silence that asks for nothing. There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off.

He did not wait for the speech. He ran.

Before the apology, before the excuse — he ran. The dawn is not waiting for you to be okay.

It is running toward you just as you are, tears and all. You do not have to speak to be seen.