The Dawn Does Not Wait For Cleanliness

The sun is up, but you are still hiding the evidence of last night's fall. You scrubbed the floor, washed the face, put on the mask that says 'I am fine' so the people who love you won't see the shake in your hands.

You are terrified that if they see the stain, they will stop trusting you. But the light does not need your cleanliness to arrive.

It rises anyway. It shines on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, guiding feet that feel too heavy to move.

The dawn does not wait for you to fix the mess before it breaks. It breaks so you can see the mess clearly without dying from the shame.

The light is already inside the room, illuminating the very thing you tried to hide, not to expose you to judgment, but to show you that you are still here. The night is over.

The slip is real, but it is not the end of the story.