The Light Held You In Reaching
The morning light is soft on the sill, and for a second, your hand lifts on its own to catch a chin that is no longer there. The muscle remembers what the world has lost.
The reflex is faster than the truth. But look — the light did not flinch when your hand closed on empty air.
It held you in that reaching. It was there in the ghost of the touch.
The father in the old story saw his son while he was still a long way off and ran before the apology could be spoken. He runs to you too, into this quiet kitchen, into this new day.
You made it through the night. The light is not waiting for you to stop missing them; it is walking with you as you begin again.
Drawing from
Luke 15:20, Luke 1:78-79
Verses
Luke 15:20, Luke 1:78-79
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