The Light Holds You While You Shake

The middle of the day is long, and the mask feels heavy when the door locks behind you. You lean against the stall, waiting for the shaking to stop so you can walk back out and perform okayness one more time.

It is terrifying how quiet it gets when the applause dies down. But the light does not need you to stand up straight to find you.

It is already here, in the silence, in the tremor, in the cold tile beneath your feet. You do not have to fix yourself before you emerge.

The kingdom is spread out upon the earth, and people do not see it because they are looking for something grander than this moment. The light is not waiting for you to stop shaking.

It is the ground you are standing on while you shake. You are not alone in the stall.

You are held.