Loved Because You Are Known

The mask is heavy this morning. You put it on before you even opened your eyes, smoothing it over the terror that someone might see the real you and walk away.

You perform okayness so well that even you almost believe it. But the light does not need your performance.

It saw you before you ever learned to hide. There was a woman caught in the act, exposed in the center of a crowd, waiting for the stones to fly.

The light bent down, wrote in the dust, and waited until every accuser had left. Then it looked up and spoke her name without a trace of condemnation.

Neither do I condemn you. The terror says: if they knew, they would leave.

The truth says: the only one who knows everything is the one who stayed. You are not loved because you are hidden.

You are loved because you are known.