Dawn Loves You Wet and Weary

The water is loud enough to hide the sound of you breaking, and you hope the children sleep through the shaking of your shoulders. You made it through the night, even if the morning feels like starting over with cracked bones.

But listen — the rising sun does not wait for you to be whole before it shines on you. It comes anyway, with tender mercy, to guide your feet into the path of peace.

The light that lives inside you was there before the tears started, and it is still there, untouched by the grief. You do not have to wash the sadness away before you are loved.

The dawn sees you, wet and weary, and calls you beloved anyway. The light does not require your composure, only your presence.