The Light Finds You in the Cracks

The sun has gone down, and the armor you wore all day finally hits the floor. It makes a heavy sound in the quiet room.

You let the mask slip, just for a moment, and the silence that followed felt like proof that no one saw you drowning. That the performance was so perfect, no one noticed the collapse underneath.

But the light does not need you to hold yourself together to see you. It sees the cracks because that is where it lives.

There was a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years, invisible in a pressing crowd, certain she was too unclean to be touched. She reached for the edge of a robe in desperation.

And the whole crowd stopped. The light turned around.

It felt power go out. It asked: who touched me?

It did not ignore your silence. It is searching the room for you right now.

The exhale is not the end of being seen. It is the moment you stop hiding so the light can finally find you.