The Light Sees Your Hidden Tears

The middle of the day demands a face that never cracks. You are walking through the noise, performing okayness, when a single tear escapes — uninvited, real, terrifying.

You blame the dust. You blame the wind.

You force a laugh to cover the wetness on your cheek. But the light does not need an excuse.

It saw the tear before it fell. It knows the weight you are carrying while everyone else sees only your stride.

There is a grace that meets you in the open office, in the crowded street, in the moment you have to pretend you are fine. You do not have to explain your sorrow to the One who walks beside you.

The mask is for the crowd. The truth is for the light.

And the light is not fooled by the laughter you use as a shield.