The Dawn Is Not Afraid Of Your Night

The sun is just breaking the horizon, painting the sky in colors that promise a new start. You stand frozen as your child reaches for your hand, terrified that the brokenness inside you will bleed into their skin.

You pull back, believing you must be clean before you can touch them. But the light does not wait for you to fix yourself before it arrives.

It is already here, in this first light, washing over both of you equally. That small hand reaching out is not asking for your perfection; it is asking for your presence.

The light lives in the space between your fingers, not in the distance you create to protect them. You do not transmit your shadows; you transmit the light that has been inside you since before the pain began.

Take the hand. The dawn is not afraid of your night.