The Sun Does Not Beg the Ice

The sun is up, but inside you, the ground is still frozen. You are afraid that because the tears did not come last night, your heart has turned to stone forever.

That the silence means you are broken beyond repair. But the light of this morning does not demand a performance of sorrow.

It simply waits. There was a man who waited thirty-eight years beside a pool, too numb to even ask for help, and the light did not scold his stillness.

It asked him if he wanted to get well. The thaw is not your job.

The sun does not beg the ice to melt; it just shines until the hardness gives way. You are not your numbness.

You are the soil waiting for the warmth to do its work. The tears will come when the frost breaks, not a moment before.