The Light Does Not Apologize

The meeting starts and the air shifts, just slightly, and before anyone speaks, the words are already on your tongue: I'm sorry. You do not know what you did wrong.

You only know the weight of the room and the desperate need to make it light again. This is the mask you wear from eight until noon—the performance of smallness to keep the peace.

But listen. There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world.

That light does not apologize for existing. It does not shrink to fit the space others leave it.

It simply shines. You were taught to be quiet, to be safe, to be less than you are.

But what you look forward to has already come. The acceptance you are trying to earn by saying sorry is already yours.

The light does not need you to be smaller. It needs you to be real.