Held in the Silence Where Words Fail

The question lands softly in the quiet room. 'Are you okay?' And suddenly, the floor beneath you turns to water.

You realize you have no answer that won't make you crumble. To say 'yes' is a lie that chokes you.

To say 'no' is to invite the flood. So you stand there, suspended in the silence, terrified that if you speak, you will cease to exist.

But listen — the light does not need your answer. It does not need you to hold yourself together long enough to reply.

It is already sitting on the floor with you, in the place where the words failed. You do not have to explain the wreckage to be held within it.

The silence is not a wall between you and God. It is the very space where the holding happens.