The Light That Runs to Broken Things

The house is so quiet right now it feels like a held breath. You are afraid that your silence has become a wall, convincing everyone around you that they must never show you their own cracks.

That if they spoke their truth, you would break. Or worse, you would turn away.

But listen — the light inside you does not flinch at broken things. It was made for them.

There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off, covered in filth and failure. He did not wait for the boy to clean up.

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

Your silence is not a demand for perfection. It is just the dark waiting for the dawn.

The light in you is already calling their names. Let them come.