You Are Not Too Heavy To Hold

The house is quiet now, but your shoulders are still holding up the roof. You spend these hours dissecting every word spoken today, wondering if your presence felt like a weight someone else had to carry.

You replay the conversations, searching for the moment you became too much. But listen — the light does not weary the ones it touches.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He did not brace himself for the impact.

He ran. Before the apology, before the speech — he ran.

The light does not calculate the cost of your company. It does not tally the burden you bring.

You are not a debt to be managed. You are the one being sought.

The tension in your body is a lie told by the dark. You are safe here.

You are not too heavy to hold.