The Light Does Not Condemn You

The water runs hot, and you rehearse the words until they feel clean enough to say. But when the towel is wrapped and the phone is in your hand, the thumb hovers over the delete key.

The apology dies in the draft folder, buried under the fear that showing up will make it worse. There was a woman once who was caught in the act, dragged into the center of a crowd that only wanted to judge her.

The ones with stones in their hands walked away one by one until no one was left to condemn her but the light itself. And the light did not lecture.

It did not demand a perfect speech. It simply said: neither do I condemn you.

Go. Your worth is not decided by the message you send or the one you delete.

The love that holds you is already complete, waiting for you to stop performing and just come home.