Let the water wash over you

The water runs hot, and you are rehearsing the words again. You say them flat.

You say them steady. You practice the version of yourself that does not crumble when the silence comes.

You are trying to build a wall against the tears before the battle has even begun. But the light does not need your armor.

It saw you under the water long before you knew the words. It knows the ache you are trying to hold back.

You do not have to be strong enough to say it perfectly. You only have to be honest enough to say it at all.

The tears are not a failure of your preparation. They are the proof that you loved.

Let the water wash over you. Let the words break if they need to.

The one who sees you is not afraid of your shaking voice.