The Touch That Will Not Revoke

Tonight, the house is quiet enough to hear your own flinch when a hand reaches for your shoulder. You brace for the recoil.

You are certain that if they truly touched you, really felt the weight of who you are, the kindness would vanish like mist. But listen.

There was a man born blind, and the people around him argued for years about whose fault it was. They treated his darkness like a punishment.

Yet the light looked at him and saw only a canvas. It did not ask what he had done to deserve the sight.

It simply opened his eyes. You are waiting for the love to be revoked.

It will not be. The hand that reaches for you is not making a mistake.

It sees the light inside you that you have forgotten is there. The touch is not a test you might fail.

It is a promise that you are already held.