The Crack Where Morning Got In

The sun is up now, but your throat still remembers the crack. You swallow hard, trying to force the tremor down, to smooth the voice before the day begins.

It feels like a fracture that won't heal, a weakness that betrays you in the quiet moments between words. But listen — the light that rose this morning did not wait for the night to be perfect before it broke the dark.

It came while the world was still shaking. The rising sun shines on those living in the shadow of death, guiding feet that are still unsteady into the path of peace.

Your voice does not need to be steady to carry the light. It only needs to speak.

The crack is not a sign that you are broken beyond use. It is the place where the morning got in.