Your Numbness Is A Mercy Shield

The silence inside your chest feels like a verdict. You press your hand against your heart and find no tears, only a dry, hard stone where your humanity used to be.

You are convinced that because the water will not flow, the soul has evaporated. But listen — the light does not measure your worth by your ability to weep.

There was a moment in the garden when the light itself was so overwhelmed with sorrow that it fell on its face in the dirt, begging for the cup to pass. It did not perform grief.

It collapsed under the weight of it. And sometimes, the only way to survive the crushing dark is to stop the flow.

To seal the wound. To become dry so you do not dissolve entirely.

Your numbness is not a failure. It is a mercy.

A shield held up by the very spirit that lives within you, protecting the softest part of your heart until the storm passes. You have not lost your humanity.

You are simply being kept alive in the only way you know how right now. The tears will come when the shield can be lowered.

Until then, you are not broken. You are being held in the deep, silent mercy of the one who knows exactly what it feels like to have nothing left to give.