Mercy Is Not A Leash To Drop

The night is gathering, and with it comes the old, familiar terror: that if you finally lay down the whip, you will become dangerous again. You have convinced yourself that your self-punishment is the only thing keeping the monster asleep.

That mercy is a leash you cannot afford to drop. But listen — the light does not fear what you are carrying.

It knows the difference between a weapon and a wound. There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off.

He did not check the boy's hands for weapons before he ran. He did not demand a safety plan.

He ran. Before the apology, before the promise to be better — he ran.

Your guilt is not a guard dog. It is a chain you have mistaken for a spine.

The light is not afraid of your history. It is not afraid of your capacity to harm, because it knows your capacity to love is greater.

You do not need to punish yourself to stay safe. You need to be held.

The darkness is gathering, yes. But the light has already gathered you.