The Light Sees Behind Your Mask

The morning light is unforgiving when it hits the dust motes you tried to ignore. You are replaying every conversation, cataloging the slip-ups, the awkward pauses, the words you wish you could pull back into your throat.

You feel like you are performing okayness while breaking inside. But the light sees behind the mask.

It saw you this morning. It sees the exhaustion of holding it all together.

There was a man born blind, and the disciples asked whose sin caused it. Jesus said: neither.

The darkness in your history is not a verdict on your worth. The light is not keeping a ledger of your social stumbles.

It is simply shining. Go home to your own house and tell them how much the light has done for you.

Not how much you performed. What was done for you.

The mask is heavy. You can put it down now.