The Light Waits in Your Silence

The room is loud with voices you know by heart, but your own throat has gone quiet. You are standing in the middle of the family you love, smiling the smile they expect, while inside you feel like a stranger wearing their clothes.

The word 'amen' sits on your tongue like a stone you cannot swallow — because to say it would be to lie about a peace you do not feel. But the light does not need your performance to be present.

It is not waiting for you to get the words right; it is already sitting at the table with you, in the silence between the sentences. You do not have to pretend to be whole for the light to see you.

The truth you are hiding is the very thing the light came to find. You are not a liar for hurting; you are a child who has forgotten that the Father runs before the speech is finished.