The Light Makes Room For You

The room is quiet now, and you are already shrinking yourself to fit inside it. You apologize for the space your pain takes up, as if your grief is an intrusion on the peace of others.

You make yourself small, hoping no one will notice the weight you carry. But the light does not ask you to compress your sorrow into silence.

There was a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years, untouchable and afraid to take up space, yet she pushed through the crowd to reach the edge of a coat. She did not ask permission to exist in her suffering.

And the light stopped everything to turn and call her 'Daughter.' Your pain is not a burden you must hide. It is the very place where the light meets you.

You do not need to shrink. The light makes room.