The Dawn Holds What You Cannot

The sun is rising, and your hands are still shaking from the long night. You look at them with fear, terrified that your own trembling might accidentally harm the little one you are desperate to hold.

You want to be strong, but you feel fragile, like a vessel that might crack under the weight of such love. But listen — the light that woke up this morning is not afraid of your shake.

It is gentle enough to hold both you and the child without slipping. There is a love that holds you even when you cannot hold yourself steady.

The dawn does not demand that you stop trembling before it touches your face. It rises anyway.

It warms your hands exactly as they are. You are not the source of the safety; you are the vessel.

The light inside you is the one that keeps the child safe. Your fear proves how much you care, but it does not define your touch.

The sun is up. The light is here.

And it knows how to hold what you love.