The Light Enters Your Prison

The silence right now feels heavy enough to break you. You are holding a truth so sharp you believe it would cut your siblings if they ever saw it.

So you carry it alone, convinced that your silence is the only love you can offer them. But listen — the light does not run from what is hidden.

It enters the prison of your deep sleep and whispers your name until you wake. And when you weep, asking who calls you from the chains of this secret, the answer is already there.

The truth you fear is the very thing the Father runs to meet. He does not hate the prodigal for his filth; he runs while the son is still rehearsing his shame.

Your secret is not a wall between you and them. It is the place where the light is waiting to be found.

The darkness has not overcome it.