The Light Sees You in the Dark

The pillow is wet, and you are holding your breath so the silence won't break. You think if you stay still enough, if you pretend to be asleep, the ache won't find you.

But the light is not fooled by the performance. It sees the tears soaking into the cotton.

It sees the trembling you are trying to hide. There was a man born blind, and everyone asked whose fault it was — who sinned to make him this way?

The light said: neither. It was not punishment.

It was a canvas. Your pain tonight is not a verdict against you.

It is the space where something new is waiting to be seen. You do not have to explain the tears.

You do not have to justify the ache. The light is already there, in the dark, with you.

It is not waiting for you to stop crying. It is waiting for you to know that you are seen, even now, even like this.