The Light Knows Your True Accent

The morning sun is up, and so is the mask you spent all night stitching together. You press play on a recording of your own voice, and you flinch—not at the sound, but at the precision of the performance.

You hear how carefully you have trained your tone to hide where you are really standing. The accent of your pain has been smoothed over.

The tremor of your fear has been edited out. You sound so okay.

So put together. So far from the truth.

But the light does not need your broadcast. It sees the gap between the voice you project and the silence you carry.

There is a version of you that does not need to perform safety to be loved. The light knows the accent of your soul before you ever learned to disguise it.

You do not have to keep hiding where you are from. The One who made you knows the way home better than you know the script.